"Hey you guys

"Hey you guys!" came a high-pitched, almost screech-like voice of a young woman in a skin-tight cow-print t-shirt and just as tight black leather pants that clung to her luscious curves. She was followed by her darker, heavier other half. "Where is he?"

"How is he?" asked the dark woman, wearing her usual business suit dress and pants.

Roger sighed, stopping his pacing routine around the hospital lobby. "He's…" He turned away, shutting his eyes.

"He's doing okay," Collins continued on Roger's behalf. "Have a seat. We can't go in right now. They took him to x-ray to see what's wrong exactly. He's still unconscious."

The woman in cow-print placed a dainty hand over her lips. "Oh, poor Marky! How'd it happen?"

Collins sent a glance toward Roger's back as he was now leaning face-forward against the wall. "Maureen, let's not talk about it now," he whispered to save Roger from hearing. "Roger's having a hard time."

"Oh, the poor dear!" cooed Joanne in a hushed tone. "Anything we can do? We came as soon as we heard, but that damn traffic…"

"I know. No, there's really nothing to do now. He'll come out of it."

Maureen sighed, lowering her eyes. She bit her lip and took a seat, crossing her legs and studying the floor, silent for once. Joanne sat down beside her and held her hand tightly in her own, stroking it affectionately.

Mimi entered then from around the corner and smiled upon noticing the two new arrivals. "Hey you guys!"

Joanne and Maureen looked up happily without getting up.

"Hey, babe," whispered Joanne with a grin. "How're things?"

"Minus the obvious, they're okay."

"Glad to hear."

They all took seats and engaged in simple conversation, much as they'd had the last time they were all in one room together at the same time: last Christmas Eve.

Roger still leaned against the wall, his forehead resting against the cool surface, pushing against it slightly. The pain seemed to ease his heartache. He heard vague blurbs of discussion and playful arguments between the four friends who sat in the hospital room. From his throat, there was emitted a low growl. It was too soft for anyone to hear, however. His heart was breaking, tearing in two, and at the same time he felt angry for these people sitting behind him. Didn't they care at all? Mark could be dying and they were engaging in tête-à-tête! His hands, which had previously been pressed against the wall to either side of his head, clenched to form fists and shook and trembled with rage. He felt the prominent veins in his brow and neck bulging with fury as his body quivered with fear. A sweat broke out over his face, wetting his pale visage with moisture. His eyes snapped open and he spun around to face them, his temper fuming.

"What the hell are you doing?" he screamed.

All heads turned his way, surprised, shocked, and very much confused.

"What, Roger?" Mimi asked timidly.

"You all are sitting there like it's fuckin' Christmas Day with all our worries diminished and gone! You act like Mark could walk out any minute and turn on that stupid camera of his and say, 'Hey, guys, what's up?' But, he won't, damn it! You know he wont'! What the hell's the matter with you all?!"

"Roger…calm down," Collins tried to reason, standing to his feet and taking a few steps toward Roger.

"Fuck you, Collins! Get the hell away from me!" he screamed, backing up.

The small woman doctor who they'd seen before appeared beside him and touched his shoulder lightly, whispering, "Please, sir, just have a seat and –"

"Get the hell away from me!" he repeated, louder this time, with the passion he utilized so often when his emotions got the best of him. "Don't you guys understand? Mark is fuckin' dying in there! And you're all sitting out here discussing the fuckin' weather!"

"Roger…please!" begged Mimi, standing as well.

"'Please' yourself, Mimi!" He pushed her away, tears cascading down each pale cheek lethargically. "You guys don't understand…"

"Roger!" Collins tried to step closer and that was it: Roger took off down the hallway.

Aimless thoughts swirled in Roger's head as he dashed down every hallway, each crammed with people: doctors, nurses, patients, etc. His heart raced frantically and his breathing became as erratic as Mark's. Finally, he felt himself slow down and his hand groped forward to grasp the doorknob of a linen closet, swinging the entry open and propelling himself inside with such force that he ended up knocking over some towels and bed sheets. But, he didn't care. He cared about nothing else in the world at this moment save Mark Cohen: his best friend, roommate, solace, and his sane half. It'd often been said, by more than one person, that Roger and Mark could've been brothers; they were that close. He'd never kept a secret from Mark and vice versa. The two had lived together for years now and had had a few fights, but had always managed to resolve them peacefully.

Roger sank down to the floor and hugged his knees to his chest, laying his head down on top of folded arms across kneecaps. He felt the water on his cheeks and berated himself for them, but there was nothing he could think or say to stop the continuous flow of tears from his dark eyes. He felt utterly alone and helpless. His best friend had been raped and beaten up and it was his fault entirely. If only he would have noticed! He could've stopped Mark from leaving and would have saved him!

'If only I hadn't been so excited about the news!' he thought to himself, silently. 'If only Mimi and I wouldn't have gotten so…' Suddenly, at that very moment, a horrible thought entered Roger's mind. It was so terrible and wrong that he shivered slightly thinking about it. He hadn't realized that Mimi's baby would most likely be HIV positive! 'Had she known that? No, she couldn't have. She was so happy and completely oblivious,' his mind continued.

He felt a pain deep within his heart, tugging at his muscles until they ached and jerked restlessly. He was sore and exhausted from the run from his co-called friends. His chest throbbed, every beat from his heart like the pounding of a distant drum edging ever closer. His eyes were red and puffy – swollen from sobbing – and tears still fell, dripping and cascading over his insipid façade. His lips trembled, as did the rest of his body, when he tried to make himself get up from the floor. He found he could not move. So, he allowed himself to slip down to a sleeping position, tucking his arms under his chest and laying on some fallen linen. He looked almost peaceful, save the unremitting current of tears, the melodious whimpers released from parted pallid lips, and his tremulous body. He shivered, swallowing slowly, doing something he hadn't done in a long time: he prayed.

"Mark? Mark, can you hear me?"

"Y-yes…. W-whe…. W-w-where….?" A bright light flashed in his half-masked eyes, filling them with vivid brightness.

"It's okay, Mark. You're at the Louise-Central Hospital. How are you feeling?"

"I…I…"

"Just one word is fine, Mark. Don't stress yourself. How are you feeling?"

"O-oay…"

Maureen smiled from his right-hand side. "I think he means 'okay'."

The doctor smiled as well, nodding. "You're going to be all right, Mark. Do you remember what happened?"
"I…I re…"

"One word, Mark. Only one word, if you can. Do you remember what happened?"

"Yeah…"

"Okay. Now, can you try real hard for me to–"

"Rog-g-ger?"

Collins winced from where he stood, clenching his jaw to hold tears. "He's not hear now, Mark. He'll be here, though."

At those words, Mimi snuck out (not that Mark could take notice of that, but it was better to be careful anyway) of the room quietly, going to find Roger.

"C-Collins!" Mark cried, turning his head and almost making himself sit up. This outburst caused him so much pain that he cried out again and fell back into the sheets, moaning in pain.

"Whoa, calm down, Mark," whispered the doctor, glancing at the heart monitor which was moving too quickly for Mark's good. "You need to keep calm for me, okay?"

"Yeah…" he breathed, exhausted.

"Now, I need you to try really hard for me, Mark. Can you remember what day it is?"

"N-novv….Novv…"

"Yes, that's right. It's November. Now, what day?"

"Fiffff….teenth."

"Good! What year?"

Mark took a deep breath and fought to make an answer audible. "1998."

"Good!" The doctor smiled and moved to a bag that was hooked into Mark's right arm, adjusting the bottom of it. The fluid ran down the tube and into Mark's system. "Mark, you need to get some rest and try not to exert any more energy than you have to: which is none. Just take it easy and rest, okay? I'll be back later to check on you again." He began to walk out and nodded to the people still in the room. "You all can stay until he falls asleep, but keep him calm."

"Got it, doctor," whispered Maureen with a smile.

"Thanks," echoed Collins and Joanne.

The doctor retreated casually and closed the door quietly behind him. Mark turned his head slowly towards Collins and smiled hazily.

"F-film…?" he asked almost silently.

Collins laughed gently, turning on the camera. "Yeah, Mark. I've been filming nonstop, don't worry."

"W-where's Mimi?" he said noticeably clearer.

"She went to get Roger, honey," cooed Joanne, smiling down at him, although she felt more like crying as she noticed every painful mark.

Mark sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes. The lids seemed to fall of their own accord and Mark's breathing slowed. However, he whispered still. "S-sorry I'm nooot… mush of maself n-now…"

Maureen smiled, laughing good-naturedly. "That's okay Mark. You just rest. Don't worry about us."

He forced his eyes open and blinked again through the blurred vision. "H-how bad do-o I look?"

Maureen bit her lip, Joanne shifted uncomfortably to her other leg, and Collins felt himself quiver. None answered for a few moments of awkward silence.

"I mu-ust look p-p-pretty bad, h-huh?" he stammered with a short laugh that was echoed by coughing and a painful moan.

"Don't exert yourself too much, honey," Maureen whispered, touching his hand. "You look damn good!" She smiled.

"Liar." His lips curved so slowly that it seemed to take a full minute to receive a half smile from him.

Then, his eyes closed again and he fell asleep within moments. His friends tiptoed out of the room as quietly as possible, and Collins switched off the camera.

Mimi searched around the hospital with no luck thus far. She'd asked with nurses and doctors and even some patients to see if they'd seen him wondering around. The only thing she knew was that a few people had seen him go down the West Wing hallway, where they kept the seriously ill patients suffering from long-term diseases. She checked every empty room in that wing before deciding to give up. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. It was then that she heard an argument coming from a few doors down in a small closet.

"Fuck you, lady," growled Roger, impatiently standing to his feet. "I'm not having the best day, so just get out of my way."

"Sir, I didn't mean to –"

"Yeah, whatever."

Roger's hands tore at his tears, wiping them away swiftly, leaving red streaks running down each cheek. Mimi immediately noticed him as he hastily exited the closet, shoving the nurse he'd been arguing with aside.

"Roger!"

He stopped cold in his tracks and spun on his heels to walk the other way, but she raced up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him to face her.

"Roger, please, don't be like this."

"Be like what, Mimi? You don't want me to feel emotion?"

"You know that's not –"

"You want me to go chat it up with Lesbian and Gays Anonymous over there in the lobby? Screw that!"

Her hands massaged his muscles gently and she leaned against him. "C'mon, Roger. Come over with us and talk this out."

"What's there to talk about?" he cried, pulling away and running his hands through his hair. "Mimi, did you even think about the fact that your baby is…"

"Is what?"

He swallowed, sighing. "Think about it, Mimi…. Damn it! Just think about it."

Her eyes narrowed and she felt tears swell in her eyes. "I know." She sniffled, wetting her dry lips and turning from him. "You think I didn't know? But, what the hell am I supposed to do, Roger? I'm not getting an abortion! I couldn't…." She slipped down into a chair and he was immediately by her side. "What are we going to do, Roger?"

"I don't know," he replied, holding her hand gently. "It's not fair to our child to be brought up like that…. I don't want him or her to turn out like me, okay? I don't want that!"

She frowned, taking his face in her hands lovingly. "I don't want our kid to be like me, either." Her glance descended until it rested on the floor. "Roger?"

"Huh?"

"Mark's conscious – or was when I last saw him."

"What?" He jumped up, dropping her hand. "He's okay?" His eyes flashed with wetness.

"He's doing good. He asked for you, though."

Roger took off down the hall, smiling widely. Mimi jumped to her feet and followed silently.

It was getting late and the doctors had pronounced visiting hours to be over and made them leave to let Mark get some rest. There's nothing you can do now, the doctor had told Roger, Except to go home and get some rest, and let Mark do the same. He's had a tough day. Come back tomorrow morning and you can see him again.

Roger had refused to leave and promised to sleep in the lobby and be patient and quiet. He knew he could do nothing now but wait, but somehow he couldn't force himself to go home. Benny had offered to escort Mimi home, and for once Roger trusted him completely. Benny'd also undertaken the responsibility of making sure Mimi and the gang got some good food into their system. Roger had coerced them all to leave and let him stay alone. He swore he was fine and that he'd be okay there all night.

In reality, he was not fine and he would not be okay. His nerves were on end and every breath he took was a test of strength. He felt as if he would collapse at any moment if not for the impending thought of morning soon to come.

Soon, it was nearing midnight and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, glancing around the lobby room. There were a few others, sleeping here as he was. One woman, to his far right, had a husband who was dying of cancer and was in the ER as she sat there. A man and two children far behind him were there because of the man's wife who had been shot twice (once in the leg and once in the chest) as she was robbed in Central Park. The children had settled now, but had earlier been crying and sobbing and carrying on as if they'd been shot themselves. And Roger? He sat motionless, anxiety overriding his system as he stared – terrified – at the door to Mark's room. It was closed, but not locked. He'd been monitoring it for the past few hours now and had noticed that the nurse came by to check on him every hour on the hour. He sighed, waiting impatiently. As soon as the nurse left this time, he was going in there. He hadn't seen Mark since he was unconscious, and, although he'd probably be asleep now, he couldn't waste the opportunity to see him.

Mark lay awake, watching the nurse busy herself with checking up on him. She whistled a happy tune, pushing buttons and pulling on wires. He studied her, wishing he had his camera with him. He laughed inwardly. How could he operate a camera?

The nurse made a few marks on her papers, checking his heart monitor once before replacing the clipboard to its holder at the foot of his bed. She glanced his way and he closed his eyes, peeking through them to watch her until she'd left, as quietly as she'd come in.

He was thankful for the privacy. He hated being pampered like this. If not for the incredible pain in his rear and the scars and tears all over his face, chest, and back, he would have gone home by now. But, the pain was so unbearable that he had to allow them to wait on him as if he was an invalid.

The only thing he was really curious about was Roger. Roger had been missing through this whole ordeal and he was the only person Mark wanted to talk to. Roger was his best friend, his closest confidant…his brother.

Mark sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back. It was best not to dwell on anything. Roger was probably at home, sleeping, as he should be. No need to worry over Mark's well being.

Suddenly, a dim light stretched across Mark's features and he vaguely realized that it was coming from outside and that someone was entering. The light created a line that ran perpendicular to the floor, over the right side of his face. He felt unnerved and slammed his eyes shut again so the light wouldn't blind him, but, as soon as he did, the light was gone, and the darkness once again enveloped him. He knew, however, that he was not alone, and he somehow discerned that the person entering was male. A sweat broke out on his face, drenching his features with moisture as his heartbeat sped slightly. He wanted to jump out of the bed and get the hell out of there as fast as possible, but he couldn't make himself move. His muscles seemed frozen in place and his brain spun wildly with images of his raping. His heartbeat raced a little faster. Then, just as he was about to scream for help, the man spoke….

"Oh Mark…."

Roger! It was Roger! The sweat dripped down Mark's cheeks, burning as it reached some open wounds that were cut and bruises that weren't healed in the least. But, it didn't matter. He started to open his mouth to speak, but, before he got the chance, Roger's voice was heard.

"God, Mark, I'm so, so sorry…. Can you ever forgive me?" Mark decided to stay quiet, for the fear that if he spoke, he would ruin this. "Geez, Mark…." Roger sat down at his right-hand side and swallowed, thrusting all his courage forth. "One of the last things I said was 'screw you'," he whispered, choking on his words. "How the hell was I supposed to know…? Oh God, Mark, just please come out of it! You know you're my best friend in the world, and, without you, I'm lost! I know you're sleeping and you probably can't even hear me—"

'How wrong you are,' thought Mark.

"—But I just gotta tell you all this. I've been crying, Mark. You know I never cry…. I didn't cry when I left Mimi to go to Santa Fe and I didn't cry at Angel's funeral, but I'm crying now. Mark… I don't even know what to say… You gotta make it, pal. You don't understand how close you are to me. You're closer to me than anyone. I tell you everything and never hold back and I know you do the same. Mimi gets jealous sometimes because I tell you more than I do her." He smiled gently, his eyes watering. "Pull through for me, Mark… I'd do anything just to erase the pain you're going through right now. I'd die to save you from it…." He let his voice trail off as he turned away, unable to say more.

Mark felt tears swelling in his eyes as well, but he couldn't cry. It would sting the cuts….

"Please, Mark…. Pull through, for me…?"

"Okay," whispered Mark, opening his eyes fully.

Roger nearly jumped to his feet and his face flushed red. Mark could see this easily, even in the dark room.

"Mark! Oh God, you're awake?"

"Yeah."

Roger laughed happily, reaching out to Mark to hug him, but Mark flinched, wincing and moaning, sinking away into the sheets. Roger stopped cold and retracted his hands.

"What's wrong?" cried Roger, backing away, thinking he'd accidentally pulled one of the tubes.

"Oh God…." Mark's eyes slammed shut and he started to tremble, jerking frantically. The near caress of Roger's hands had brought flashes of images from earlier that evening back into his mind. Hands pulling, pushing, hitting…hurting, piercing…. He felt his heart race wildly out of control and he fought to maintain breath. "No! No, please! Help me… No!"

Roger paced frantically and then raced out in the hallway. "Help! Someone help!"

"No, please! I'll give you the money! No! Not my clothes… Oh, please! God, it hurts! Help me! Help me!" Mark writhed on the bed, the sweat rolling off his features while the bed shook. His heart monitor beeped and screeched loudly as the doctor rushed in.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he asked Roger as the man checked on Mark. He switched a plastic tube with another and liquid flowed into it and down to Mark's veins, entering his system. "Calm down, Mark… Take it easy."

Roger's heart thumped loudly within his chest as he backed out of the room. He faintly heard the doctor's last words, "Go home."

Roger didn't waste too much time getting the hell out of the hospital. He'd nearly sent Mark into cardiac arrest! Plus, he knew there was no way to stay in the lobby now. They wouldn't trust him half as far as they could throw him. The nurse had escorted him kindly out, saying he could return in the morning.

'Screw the morning,' thought Roger angrily. Mark had heard every single thought running through his mind as he'd thought them, but this did not anger Roger. What angered Roger was that no one had found these men yet, and they'd probably never be found. The police in NYC were more commonly seen chasing donuts and coffee than criminals and drug dealers. This is what made him furious. Mark could have died (thank God he hadn't!), and these cops wouldn't give a fuck about it!

Eventually, Roger stopped wondering the streets and strayed towards the loft, where he knew Mimi would be. What he didn't expect was to see everyone – Mimi, Collins, Benny, Maureen, and Joanne – all seated in a circle on the floor, chatting and drinking tea and hot chocolate. They all smiled at him as he entered and Mimi leapt to her feet, striding over to him and embracing him tenderly. He wrapped his arms around her, thankful to hold her once again, and kissed her cheek.

"Hey, Roger," she whispered, smiling. Pulling away, her frown disappeared. "Why'd you come home?"

"I walked in to talk to Mark and when I went to touch him – to give him a hug – he freaked and got worse by the minute. I called the doctor in and they made me leave."

Collins stood and handed Roger a cup. "It's my own special recipe."

"The hell it is, Collins," Benny said with a laugh, "Unless you own Starbucks."

"Shh, he doesn't know that!" replied Collins with a smirk.

Roger laughed, taking a sip of the hot liquid, thankful, for he hadn't eaten at all since he found out the news. "Thanks."

"No problem. Take a seat."

"Thanks," Roger said with a laugh, sitting next to Mimi. "Not that I should ask, but, what exactly are you all doing here?"

"Having a slumber party!" replied Maureen with a giggle, tossing a mini-pillow at Joanne.

Roger couldn't help but chuckle, looking at them all sitting Indian-style with their drinks in hand. They were all trying to get their minds off Mark's situation, he knew, but how long had it been since they'd all be together like this, laughing and happy and just – together? "What about work?" he asked timidly.

"Work?" Benny asked in a mocking, sarcastic tone. "What's that?"

Roger grinned. "You know… It's that thing you do between jacking off and strip clubs."

Laughter surrounded Roger then, wrapping him in its blanket of tender love. He felt safe and happy there, with these people that loved him so much. He remembered vaguely the first time he'd met each one of them….

Collins: sitting next to Maureen, Tom was the epitome of friendliness and charity. Ever since Angel died, he was constantly trying to better the community, and he even got a job so that he could make enough money to donate to AIDS/HIV charities. The first time he'd met Thomas Ethan Collins was by accident. He remembered it vividly.

Mark had taken Roger to a dance club a few months after they'd become roommates. Mark had taken a fancy to a young girl with wild clothes and an insane notion of dropping her pants at the mention of moons (or really anything to do with space), and so Roger was left alone to occupy himself (since, on that day, April had been gone off to her parents' house). Collins had introduced himself and had hit on Roger, causing a few chortles from Roger. He told Collins straight off that he wasn't gay and that he had a girlfriend. Collins hadn't minded and they hit it off well. Collins, in later conversation, had explained he was looking for a place to stay and Roger had insisted on talking to Mark about sharing the apartment.

Then, there was Maureen: the insane girl with crazy clothes, who enjoyed dropping her pants whenever possible to cause a commotion. He remembered her vivacious colors slapping him in the face and her wild hair, twisted into a high ponytail and crimped stylishly. He remembered how she'd strutted up to Mark and taken him away in one fleeting moment. He remembered the first words she'd ever said to him: "Would you be interested in a threesome?" Of course, they'd all thought she was joking. I guess that taught them both to be careful whom they date.

And Joanne: the sophisticated and always caring woman who tried her best to cope with being involved with Maureen and her undomesticated ways. He vaguely remembered hearing about her from Maureen and Mark, the day they'd broken up (or, more rightly stated, the day she dumped him). He remembered clearly that he'd first met her during Maureen's performance of "Over the Moon". Joanne had been running around like crazy before the show started and he recognized her immediately. She'd come to say a few words to them and then went to the side of the stage to help with the electronic equipment, although he could tell that she had little to no experience with gadgets.

He remembered Benny: how could one forget? Most of the time, he was a suave lady's man with money coming out the wazzu. But, he could be caring and gentle and timid as a lamb, if the mood suited him. Benny had been a friend of Mark's since high school and had lived with them from the beginning. He was always up for a party and would never be the one to back down from a dare. There was one time, Roger recalled, that Mark had dared Benny to kiss Collins. This was during their first night all together as roommates. Well, Benny didn't back down. Collins was stuck washing his mouth out (literally) with soap for a half an hour. He complained later of that being "the queerest night" of his life.

As his eyes moved to rest on the woman next to him, he realized he recalled her exact expressions and every movement she'd made the first time he'd met her. Her name was Mimi Marquez. "They call me Mimi." That was the impression he received and the most vivid of memories that came to him every time he saw her. To be truthful, the first time he'd ever seen her was when she was dancing (that would be the graceful term for what she'd been doing) on stage at the Cat Scratch Club. This thought evoked an image of her in little less than black leather and lace, handcuffing herself to various poles in the center of the stage as she gyrated her hips and let herself feel the music that played in the background. Another image sprang to mind: when they'd first kissed. Yes, it had been harsh and unexpected, and, at the time, unwanted, but it had been the foundation for their relationship up 'til now.

He felt warmth radiating inside of him remembering these things. And then, he remembered Mark. How could he ever forget the first time he'd met his best friend? They'd known each other since high school days but had never been great friends. Mark was one of the geeks who'd always request projector time in class. Roger hung out with the "bad crowd" of kids – drinking, smoking (at times), and having sex with April whenever he got the chance. They'd become friends by accident. Roger'd gotten in a fight with April during school and had gone into one of the janitor's closets to let out his steam. While inside, he'd punched quite a few holes in the walls and broken one too many brooms in half with his bare hands. Mark had gotten in trouble for stealing a camera from the AV department (when, in fact, he'd only borrowed it), and was trying to escape Vice Principal Hillyer's wrath. To escape, he decided to take refuge in the janitor's closet. Mark got in the way, clumsily, of Roger's angry fists and fell back against the wall, causing a million things to tumble off the shelves, creating a steady crescendo of noise, which caught the attention of the Vice Principal aforementioned, who came in to see what the trouble was. Mark, in all his naïve, kindhearted goodness, blamed the mess, as well as the holes in the wall and the broken tools, on himself and took the punishment (two weeks detention and a plastering session with the janitors) bravely. Roger had felt such esteem towards this lithe, scrawny, diminutive kid that he thanked him the next day and took him under his wing. From then on, the two had become inseparable. Roger and Mark. Mark and Roger. The two just fit together like bread and water. One was never without the other and when Mark had decided to get an apartment, Roger had swiftly agreed to move in with him.

"…You're the one who goes to strip clubs to watch your gal over there, Roger," replied Benny with a laugh, leaning back.

Roger shook his head slightly. He felt as if he'd just waken from a long, interesting dream. He nodded. "So? I have good reason to go. I get to watch Mimi dance." He smirked at her.

"Yeah, what's your reason, Ben?" piped Mimi with a grin.

"Duh!" Maureen chimed. "Muffy works there!"

Benny shook his head, his tone serious. "It's Allison! Can't you people ever learn that her name is –"

"Muffy!" everyone shouted.

Benny groaned, falling to his back, shaking his head with laughter. "Why the hell do I hang out with you guys?"

"Bad judgment on your part, hun," whispered Joanne with a smile.

Roger's lips curved into a soft smile as the group carried on in conversation. Mimi, noticing the slight change in Roger, tugged gently on his arm.

"Everything okay, Roger?" she whispered.

He looked over at her and pulled her close, kissing her lips tenderly. When he pulled away, he was still smiling. "Everything's great."