Top of Form 1

Bottom of Form 1

Don't forget to pick up my DRYCLEANING, pookie, I know you know I need it for the show, baby, don't forget to cut off the tags and--OH! Feel free to use YOUR credit card. Seems that mine's maxed out. LOVE, MAUREEN!''

BEEEEP. The message machine's irritatingly loud noise seemed to skyrocket through Mark's already aching cranium. Film was tied and tangled around his feet, the camera lying sideways on the table. Collins, standing in the kitchen, salvaging a little bit of beef stew from a can, and Roger was nowhere to be found.
Angel, hovering around Mark's shoulder, patted him on the back lightly.
Oh, honey,'' Angel said sadly, I think you've killed your camera.''
Mark turned to shoot Angel a dirty look.
It's not dead just…I dunno, dissected. Let me be, I need to concentrate.''
Why don't you just marry that thing?'' Collins' booming voice was amused.
…Because I think there's some sort of law against marrying a machine.'' Mark said flatly, clearly not in the mood for humor. …grr…'' Frustration riddled his features as more film spat out unevenly and seemed to crawl across the table. Why isn't this--working?'' He gave the film a final tug and it slid free--too easily free! OOF!'' He had yanked far too hard, and managed to wind up on the floor, amongst the pile of uncut film with a sharp, resounding CRASH''.
…Oooowww…''
Mark? Omigod, are you okay?'' Angel squeaked, dancing from foot to foot and biting a nail in anxiety. COLLINS! Come quick! I think Mark just killed himself!''
What!''
…Um, it's alright, Angel…really, I'm okay. I just sort of wish someone could have caught me before I fell.'' Mark intoned sourly. Collins, having run into the room at the noise, and finding Mark in a heap, decided it would be best to laugh outrageously at the skinny filmmaker's expense. How cruel.
What's the buzz, boys?'' A voice drawled from the doorway. With a bag of groceries perched on one, slender shoulder was Roger, the remaining bachelor of the group, his quirky smile fastened in place and good-humor in his eyes. Collins, taking the bag from him, smiled right back, jerking his head at the fallen Mark.
Roger raised an eyebrow.
Mark, are you making love to your film?''
NO!''
Seriously, dude, there's a limit to how much a guy can love his own work…''
NO!''
But, if you're into that sort of thing…''
I SAID NO,' DAMMIT!'' Mark, showing far more emotion than he had in days, kicked aside the film and stormed out of the room.
Come on, son, have a heart,'' Collins muttered to Roger.
After all, it's Valentine's Day,'' Angel said softly.
I guess I could help out Mark, a little…doesn't matter anyway,'' Roger grumbled, tugging his collar into place and striding after Mark.
Angel, clutching Collins' arm, smiled affectionately.
They're so cute together.''
They just don't know it,'' Collins agreed, ushering Angel towards the door.
Apparently, Collins forgot about the soup, for it started to burn.

Mark?''
Roger? What do you want, get lost…''
I came to see if the camera was alright--''
Liar.''
…Okay I'll give you that. What's the damage?'' Roger slowly sat down on the bed next to Mark, who was biting his lower lip and trying to reel the camera's film back into place, without much success.
It's pretty much trashed, I'll need new film--''
You don't have the cash.''
I'll sell some old work--''
To that cold-blooded woman?''
…Well, it's not like I'm burning my money, now, is it?''
I dunno, Mark, your last bit was shit.''
Gee, thanks, Roger.''
Anytime, pal…now, what's really bugging you?'' Roger sat back and folded his arms across his chest. Mark, still biting his lip, lowered the camera to the bed, and, standing up, began to pace, back and forth…
It's just…Ever since Maureen left, things have gone downhill. I don't know whether to sink or swim, or just give up, I've gotten so depressed. It takes a lot for me to even get dressed in the morning--I'm clearly not at my best. I want to help out you guys--Collins, Angel, and you, Roger--but how am I supposed to make a life when I can't even get over Maureen?''
I know your pain, and I know a few ways, to make you feel better,'' Roger said smoothly.
You do?'' Mark asked with some surprise.
Roger stood up, and Mark, staring at him, realized that Roger smelled a bit…funny.
Have you been drinking?'' Mark asked with disbelief. Roger's lips curled into a devilish smile, and, pressing a hand against the wall beside Mark's shoulder, said lightly,
Only one way to find out…you gotta taste-check.''
Now, hang on just a minute--'' Mark protested, but Roger was already upon him! Well, it wasn't all bad…Mark's mind swam as Roger's lips pressed against his, firmly, and warmly. He clutched at Roger's shirt--clearly, to push him off, of course, not to keep him….um…so close. He shut his eyes, and, realizing he was actually returning the kiss, broke off abruptly with a sharp gasp.
I--I'm straight!'' He whimpered, shoving Roger weakly. Roger smiled widely, eyes crinkling with the effect.
So am I.'' He said lazily. And for your information, Mark, straight men don't kiss like you do.''
So! You've been kissing other men, have you?'' Roger, still close, was about to lean forward and kiss those pouting lips, but Mark stopped him.
Wait…do you smell something burning?''
Only my love for y--''
Oh, shut up! FUCK! The stew!''
…Fuck!''

-END SCENE I-