Hey everyone! Just as a quick forewarning...this chapter involves separate scenes that I've mushed together. Its a little confusing but it'd fairily important to the timing of the chapter. Enjoy!

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Roger was getting really sick of the whir of Mark's camera. That damned arm was continuously twirling; Mark had been filming every little thing. He had no concept for a new movie. "If I get enough footage, an idea'll come," he would say. The first time it was said, it rang with determination and faith. It'd now faded into background noise. Even Mark didn't believe his own words.

Roger hadn't been doing much better, creatively. He'd managed to crank out a few companions to "Your Eyes" but his inspiration had dried up. He was happy with his life now. Everything was great. But frankly? Great sucked when it came to songwriting. Roger need angst, frustration…anything, for Christ's sake.

Sensual music poured softly through the speakers of the Cat Scratch. Girls twirled on poles, standing on round, lighted platforms. Skuzzy men sat around their feet. Bills beaconed in their eager hands. The smell of strong alcohol and sickening perfume wafted around the seats, although it was paid no mind. The music paused and the lights dimmed. All of the regulars snapped their attention to the mirrored stage in the back of the open club. A young man and his bachelor party watched curiously as the men clamored over around the stage. A maiden with long, chocolate brown hair kinked up in tight curls slowly walked out from the left wing. Mimi smiled; they were all drooling over her metallic bra and her barely there pleated skirt. Her lengthy, tan legs flowed from underneath the skirt, criss-crossing black fishnets ending in thigh high baby giraffe-spotted boots. She raised her hand towards the other wing and seductively beaconed. Gaby answered her call. She walked to center stage. She wore a high cut skirt and a fuzzy pink bra. Lace panties teased the men from under said skirt. Her heels bore near deadly stilettos and the straps snaked up her sculpted calves. The two danced to the catcalls of the horny men and their waving cash. Satisfied at the end of their show with the tips they'd earned, they returned to their humble abode, the mirrored dressing table they shared.

"Marky!" Roger called. Maybe this wouldn't be any inspiration but it would surely be amusing.

"What?" he called back, distracted and slightly agitated.

Roger grinned like an idiot but said nothing. (He was seriously invoking the spirit of Maureen.) Mark hadn't looked away from the eye piece of his camera before but did now with a scowl.

"Dammit Roger, whadaya want? Can't you see I'm working?" Mark snapped.

"I don't know. And you aren't working anyway. I don't need a camera permanently fused to my eye to see that."

Mark seemed to be so upset that he was near growling. Roger felt the twinge of genuine fear of him. For a skinny thing, he was tough. He needed to think fast to reroute Mark's fury.

"You know Gaby?"

Sure, it was probably a bad idea, but it was the first thing that came to mind and there was a chance it would work. A slight chance.

At the mention of her name, Mark's furrowed brow relaxed slightly and his eyes released some of their squinting tension. He refused, however, to let himself smile and his expression remained neutral.

"Yeah. What about her?"

"Do you ever wonder if what we do is…wrong?" Gaby asked, wiping her eye shadow off with one of the club's rough, cheap tissues. It was a simple question and her face matched its nonchalant nature.

"What? How is it wrong?" Mimi questioned. Her fishnets had twisted during one of her more violent dance moves and she bent over to right them.

"I guess it isn't wrong," she began, "but do you ever wonder? I mean, it isn't something I go around advertising. I can't even imagine being on a date with some great guy and the topic of jobs comes up. He's some executive on Wall Street or the next Jimmy Hendrix and I have to tell him…what? That I'm a stripper? How exactly could one sugar coat that?"

Mimi straightened back up and bit her lip in thought. Silence filled the room and only the slight hum of the harsh halogen lights was heard. It had never been a question to Mimi. Stripping never seemed wrong. It was dangerous, edgy, and definitely sexy…but never immoral. Gaby's timid approach to the whole idea was alien to her; she didn't know what to say.

"You know yourself," Mimi started unsurely, "and you know what kind of person you are. Your job doesn't define who you are. You shouldn't let it, anyway." She shrugged.

"I guess," Gaby murmured.

"What sparked this, exactly?"

Gaby stopped her rubbing and stared at herself in the mirror. The corners of her lips trembled in some semblance of a smile but her expression quickly dropped back to normal.

"Nothing really. Train of thought?" she said, seemingly addressing herself.

"That train wouldn't happen to be the Mark Cohen Express, would it?"

"What about her?" Mark repeated, after Roger hadn't answered him. He quickly turned away and walked to the window. He winded his camera and started to film without really seeing what was the on the other side of the lens.

"You like her." Roger watched Mark's dawdling around the window. "You do." It was not a question or an accusation. It was simply a statement, as though Roger was informing Mark of something he wasn't already fully aware of.

"What…how'd you get that impression?" He stammered, trying to get the arm of his camera to spin convincingly. At this point, all it seemed to do was jam in one spot and click there accusatorily. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Come on, Mark!" Roger said jokingly. When his fair-haired friend didn't turn around and playfully punch him in the shoulder, his tone grew a little less teasing. "Mark, seriously, come 'ere. We both know very well that there is nothing worth filming down there. You have plenty of film of the Blanket Lady sleeping. I have a feeling she holds no inspiration for you."

Mark dropped his camera from his eye but make no attempt to walk away. Both hands distractedly held it in front of his stomach and he continued to stare at the slush on the street.

"That's quite a leap, Miss Marquez!" Gaby laughed.

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't." Mimi's grin widened. "You wouldn't happen to have a little…thing…for Mark, would you?"

Gaby considered the idea for a moment, bit her lip and stared at herself in the mirror. It was as though she was picturing Mark next to her, sizing up the possibility of them being together. When she finally spoke, the words were well-thought out, albeit a little confused.

"Actually, no, I don't. I feel like…like I should. Not that I'm obligated necessarily but I have no idea why I don't. Mark is my type. He's intelligent and together; he has a goal. It's not like he isn't attractive, because he is…quite a bit so, really. I felt a spark that day, I think. Maybe I didn't. I haven't felt a spark in so many years." She smiled slightly. "Maybe this stripper just doesn't remember what its like to be in love anymore. That's what I get for soaking myself in lust for all these years. Mark is definitely amazing but I just don't want to be with him."

Mimi had, in Gaby's talk, migrated to sitting cross-legged on the table. She turned to face the mirror and looked at her own reflection next to her friend's. Gaby hadn't noticed the prominent dark circles that had formed under Mimi's eyes until then. Her skin looked paler too. It was a scary discovery and Gaby quickly put it out of her mind.

"Do you think," Mimi started, " it isn't that you don't want to be with him, but that you don't want him to be with you? Are you trying to save him from yourself?"

The comment would typically offend but Gaby simply considered it. She was rather critical of herself and took the statement at face value.

"Yeah. Maybe I am."

"What's the matter?" Roger asked. "You're never this weird about anything…even girls." An evanescent thought of a question in Mark's sexuality crossed his mind for a moment but he quickly brushed it off.

Mark whipped around quickly. Obviously, Roger had hit a nerve. "I'm not being weird about anything!" he snapped. "And by the way, last time I checked, you weren't exactly the king of relationships. Look at you and Mimi, broken up, back together, broken up, back together. Like hell you could give me any advice!"

Roger flinched slightly and withdrew to his guitar bitterly. Mark had completely crossed the line. He was only interested in helping and Mark still snapped at him. How dare he? On second thought, Roger grabbed his guitar and retreated to the window to scale the fire escape down to Mimi's room. He wasn't sure if she was at work still, but either way, he'd wait for her. Anything to get away from Mark. He roughly ran his shoulder into Mark's as he passed.

He nearly dropped his camera and the endangerment of his beloved machine snapped Mark back to reality. "Roger…Rog, wait! I'm sorry! Come back!" The words sounded pitiful as he hung out the window and shouted at his friend.

The Blanket Lady looked at the two of them, thoroughly pissed off. "Shut the hell up, white boy! Some of us are trying to sleep!" she hollered.

"Go sleep in a damn quiet dumpster, bitch!" Mark yelled back. She looked up at him with a cocked eyebrow, murmured something very rude under her breath and went back to sleeping on the sidewalk. Mark turned his attention back to his friend. "Roger, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. You just…what you said just hit me the wrong way. You know I didn't mean any of what I said."

Roger had begun down the stairs already and stared straight ahead, his knuckles bleaching from his tight grip on the rail. "You know not to go there, man. You know that was too far."

"And you know that I know. You know I love Mimi just as much of any of us. You were just trying to help me out. I completely overreacted and I'm sorry." He shrugged his shoulders in surrender.

Roger turned around with a furrowed brow and a frown. He was honestly hurt and Mark felt horrible for wounding his best friend. Roger said nothing and walked back in the house. Mark was left on the balcony staring into their loft for a moment before following him. Roger had curled up on the far end of the couch and Mark stayed on the window sill, forehead on the window and eyes searching around outside.

"You're right, though. I do like her. I really like her." He didn't turn and seemed to be talking to himself. "I just…wow. She's amazing. I'm completely smitten and I've only known her for one day. It's scary. The last person that I've been so into so quickly…well, actually…it was Maureen. And that turned out fabulously, didn't it?" Mark grimaced, which Roger could see in his reflection. "I turned her into a lesbian."

Roger started slowly at first, trying not to giggle. After he could no longer hold them back, he let himself only chuckle a little. It mounted little by little until he was doubled over, not breathing, no noise coming out. Mark didn't notice at first but the snorting caught his attention. He was a little offended that it had struck his friend as so funny but soon he was laughing along with him. Every time their laughter started to subside, something else about it struck them as funny and they continued snorting.

After the two had calmed down, which took around twenty minutes, Roger looked at his friend seriously. "You're such an idiot sometimes. You didn't turn Mo into a lesbian. She's just weird like that. It's not like you're the Midas of homosexuals or anything, don't worry. I have a feeling Gaby will be straight…no matter how horrible of a boyfriend you are."

Mark gaped playfully and tackled Roger on the couch. He had a firm hold on Roger's shoulders and was bouncing him up and down on the old sofa. Both of them were laughing.

"You aren't some monster, Gab; there's no reason to protect him," Mimi commented.

"I know, I know. I'm not horrible. I just want to be single now. It has nothing to do with Mark. I like him an awful lot though."

Mimi turned to her friend and looked her straight in the eye. "If Mark came up to you right now, walked right into this dressing room and asked you out on a date, what would you say?"

Gaby considered it a moment and smiled. "Well, I'd have to first say, 'What the hell, Mark? Get out of our dressing room, you pervert! If you wanna see a show, go out to the floor, not in here!'" Her smile fell slightly. "After that, I'd have to decline."

"You know," Roger said from underneath Mark's grip, "if you like Gaby so much, then do something about it! I thought I saw some chemistry between you two on the stairs. Give a shot. What can you lose?"

Any semblance of dignity, Mark thought. He tried to put that idea out of his head, although it was being quite stubborn. "You're right. I should do something. Yeah, I should! Maybe I will."

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There we go! I know it took a while but hopefully it was worth the wait. The plot thickens, as they say. Please review and give me some criticism! I love to hear any and every opinion. Even if all you have to say is "Great job!" or "You suck, go die!", say it. The world will be a better place! (Especially your reviews, Snarky! I love them!)

EDiT: I've edited the story a little bit because I'm a total dumbhead.