A/N: Here's Chapter Two. Don't know what I have to do to coax a review out of you people…so I'll go straight to the shameless begging. Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with sugar and a cherry on top? I'm desperate here, people. Throw me a bone.

Should have mentioned this sooner, but Angel's alive because I say so.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own. 54 days till Rent comes to Greenville!

Chapter 2: Coincidence...or Fate Stepping In?

Mark and his friends burst into laughter as Angel and Collins sculpted a story of an infestation of mice and something to do with Play-doe. The group sat in a corner booth in the Life Café, plates and mugs scattered on the large table. Collectively, they'd had a good week, leading up to their celebration—Roger had just finished a three-night gig at a nearby night club, and Mark had sold an extra clip to his new employer. The filmmaker had started working for an independent photographer. It was perfect—the job left him plenty of time to work on his films, it paid enough to keep them in rent, food, and meds (as long as they were careful), and the guy he was working for ran a small independent studio—so Mark didn't feel like he was selling out.

Across the café, Talia Sandburg sat in a booth with a soda and a sandwich. A notebook lay open next to her plate, and she held a pen in one hand as she absently picked up a chip with the other. She sat for a moment, tapping the base of the pen on her chin. Finally she jotted down whatever though had come into her head and popped the chip into her mouth.

Loud laughter interrupted her though process and Talia looked up, distracted. Her gaze carried her to the corner of the room, her eye catching hold of a blond in the middle of the group. She recognized him instantly—it had only been a few days, and it was hard to forget the face of the man who'd saved her life. That, and he was pretty cute.

Glancing at her watch, Talia signaled the waiter. A few moments later, her food was bagged up, and she was getting ready to leave. Glancing at the corner booth one more time, she smiled; it would appear that Mark hadn't noticed her.

About the same time, Mark and his friends asked for their checks. Anton brought them over and passed them out by couple, but when he was empty-handed, Mark still found himself without a ticket. "Anton, dude, I need mine too," he laughed.

The feminine black man shrugged his shoulders. "Already been taken care of, honey," he answered with a grin. Mark rolled his eyes.

"Look, Anton, I already told you, I'm flattered, but I'm not going out with you." Mark tried not to blush as his friends snorted and burst into giggles.

Anton gave him a look. "Not by me. A girl." At Mark's confused look, the waiter sighed and pointed to a red-head across the room, talking to the maitre d'. As if on cue, Talia looked up and met his gaze, and smiled. "Said she owed you." Mark absently heard Anton's explanation, and found himself returning the girl's smile.

"Oooo, Mark, somethin' you need to tell us?" Collins asking, taking a drag from his joint. Mark shook himself out of his stupor and shook his head. Noticing that Talia was heading out the door, he poked Roger and gestured for he and Mimi to let him out of the booth. Sliding out, Mark crossed the restaurant, maneuvering around patrons and dodging waiters, before finally making it out the door to catch up with Talia.

"Hey," he called. She turned, a little surprised that he had followed her out the door. Mark stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked towards her. "You know, you didn't have to do that."

Talia smiled. "I know," she answered. "But I wanted to." Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she laughed nervously. "Besides, I earned a little extra money this week. Wanted to spend it on something special."

"Really?" Mark looked intrigued. "What do you do? Photography?"

Talia shook her head. "I'm a writer, actually. I do freelance for the Voice. Sometimes I sell them pictures too, but that's mostly for inspiration."

"Oh." Mark nodded and looked impressed. "That sounds pretty cool." As he ambled closer, he passed by the window of the Life café. He tried not to look when he noticed all of his friends huddled by the window, trying to see what he was doing. He also tried to ignore the fact that Angel was pointing at Talia and mouthing 'ask her out' as though she were shouting it.

"Look, me and some friends, we're going to a show at the Stage tomorrow. You know, on 11th street?" Talia nodded.

"Yeah, I know it. Maureen's show, right? I was gonna go, maybe get some pictures and do a review or something for the Voice," she answered. Mark looked a little off-guard.

"Oh. Right, so…maybe I'll…see you there," Mark said hopefully. Talia smiled and nodded.

"Maybe." The two fell into an awkward silence. "Well…I've gotta go. Taking food to my brother," she said, holding up the bag. "So…maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Mark said. He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe you will." With a grin, Talia turned and headed back up the street. Mark stood there, watching her leave. Suddenly he was barraged by his friends surrounding him begging for details.

"So, did you ask her out?" Angel asked.

"No, I did not ask her out," Mark answered firmly. "I barely know her."

"'mmm, but she paid for your dinner," Mimi said suggestively.

"That was just…she just felt like she needed to repay me for something," Mark said. He started walking in hopes of outrunning the conversation. Unfortunately, he had no such luck.

"Ooo, repay you for what?" Angel asked. Mark sighed before launching into the story of the incident that had sparked the whole event. He had a feeling this wasn't going away anytime soon. And from the look he'd seen on Talia's face, he wasn't sure that he wanted it to.

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