His second thought was that Roger was cooking.
Rushing out of his bedroom, Mark's theory was confirmed as he spotted Roger kicking at the old oven they'd managed to push up the stairs with the help of Collins and Joanne. No one had used it so far, since none of them were really sure if the thing even worked.
"What the FUCK! Why won't you fucking OPEN!" Roger kicked at it again but the oven refused to budge.
"Roger?" Mark coughed, both a little amused and worred. "What the hell were you trying to do?" He really wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to that question but he figured it would have been a good idea to ask anyway.
"Oh come ON!" Roger growled, giving the oven one last kick before grabbing something and storming towards Mark. "This whole thing was fucking stupid anyway."
"Are you going to tell me what's goin-" Before Mark could finish a bottle of icing was shoved in his hands. He stared at it, then at Roger and blinked.
"You were GOING to get a fucking cake, but the fucking oven was a fucking bitch and won't fucking OPEN!" He glared daggers at it as he spoke, then continues to his room.
Stopping as he reached the door, Roger added, "Oh, and happy birthday."
