ROGER- Glancing quickling at Collins and back. "Nothing. So, a nun left you? Smirk."
MARK- "Oh, yeah? What's the worst for a girl leaving you?"
ROGER- "Drug addiction."
MARK- Flushing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
ROGER- "It's okay. Most of whom I come to love leave out of fear."
COLLINS- "Roger, I didn't leave you out of fear! I left you out of worry. You weren't listening to me. You weren't taking your prescriptions. I became nothing but an annoyance to you. I had a rehab on call every day, but you would never go."
ROGER- "Spare me the excuses, Thomas." Standing, giving one last glance towards Mark in apology, and walking across the pub to the stage where a guitar lies.
MARK- Standing, excusing himself, and following Roger. "Roger, put the guitar down. Come back to us. Collins...we all say things we regret."
ROGER- Scowling. "My life is about regret, Mark. Go home to your films. I don't need you." Strumming at the guitar, turning his back to Mark, who has a pained expression on his face.
MARK- "Roger...please."
ROGER- "GO HOME! Get the hell out of my apartment and leave me the hell alone. Take your friend with you. You're not needed anymore."
MARK- Blinking back tears. "Fine. But don't come crying to me when the needle takes hold of you again." Skirting his way back to the table and placing his hand on Benny's shoulder. "I have to go. We have to go." Refusing to look at Collins, who has a questioning look on his face.
BENNY- "What? Why? It's early!"
MARK- "No, I mean out of that retchid apartment. Roger doesn't want me there? Wish granted. I need to get back to my films anyway." Pulling Benny up with a surprising amount of strength, realizing that he no longer felt hungover. Just royally pissed.
(As he leaves, we can hear Roger strumming at his guitar, humming a few words.)
Camera angle is from behind them as Mark and Benny rush out the door. The camera picks up at Roger's apartment where Mark is hastily throwing things into boxes. Benny is sitting on the couch. When Benny speaks, it's over his shoulder. When Mark talks, it's over his shoulder.
BENNY- "You're wasting your time, Mark. You know that Roger is going to walk in here eventually and beg for your forgiveness."
MARK- Cackling. "Would I accept it? I doubt it. I thought I had gained a friend. A true friend."
BENNY- "Ouch."
MARK- Rolling his eyes. "That's not what I meant, Benny. You know how much you mean to me."
BENNY- "I know. But you have to admit. We were never that close."
MARK- "I know. I do regret not ever trying. I am a dope." Returning to boxing things.
BENNY- Eyes whatever it is that Mark holds in his hands. "That's Roger's!"
MARK- Laughing. "I know." (Said matter-of-factly.) Places object into box with a smirk.
BENNY- "You can't crook him, Mark. Put it back." (Said sternly.)
MARK- "No. Stop trying to be my older brother, Benjamin." Tucking the boxes edges in and piling it on top of three others, looking around the room.
BENNY- "Where will you go?"
MARK- "I still have my old apartment. I never did cancel the lease. What about you?"
BENNY- Remaining silent.
MARK- "What? Speak, boy."
BENNY- "I'm not leaving. I spoke to Collins on the phone whilst you were moaning and groaning. Smiles as Mark glares at him. He's leaving again for a few days for some teaching gig, and he offered me full use of his room."
MARK- "Traitor." (Said in a whisper.)
BENNY- "You're acting quite childish."
MARK- "I am acting as I have always."
BENNY- "You truly are a weakling."
MARK- Turning his eyes on Benny, glowering. "Shut the fuck up."
BENNY- "Make me."
(Mark is holding his fists at his side in balls, squeezing them together so much that they get even paler than they are now.)
BENNY- "Come on, Director. What have you got?" Standing, sliding out of his jacket, placing it on the couch, and crossing his hands over his chest.
MARK- Taking in a deep breath. "When I move out, it will be the last time we see each other."
BENNY- "So be it."
MARK- "I mean it, Benny. I have other things to tend to. I move out, I am not coming back."
BENNY- "I heard you the first time, Mark."
MARK- Sighing. "Fine. Stay here. Do me a favor, will you? Tell Roger to rot in whatever pits of Hell exist." Grabbing his camera, reaching out to the boxes and pulling his green shoulder bag and slinging it over his shoulder, biting at his lower lip with frustration. "I have someone coming to get the boxes later. They'll be in and out before you can even say a word to them." Crossing over to the door, reaching out to the handle, taking it in his right hand, opening the door, stalling a minute, and then slamming it behind him.