(Untitled)

[bohemian_mark]

"Mark, I don't know about this guy. He can't hold a guitar for shit." Roger walks along, brandishing his Fender. "Are you sure about him

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[the_antiangst]

Angel's not paying terribly close attention, at first, but he knows Mark and Roger's voices when he hears them.
It's Mark's last sentence that makes him look up; he's frowning a bit. Sure, Mark probably doesn't mean it, but... still.
"I still don't trust that tone of voice. Just so you know."

[bohemian_mark]

"What tone of voice?" Mark blinks a few times, still intent on the paper in his hands.

"Don't ask me." Roger shrugs.

[the_antiangst]

"Be glad you don't know from experience, Roger. It was going on something people's voices shouldn't do - not enough to make me worry, but still."
Angel? Does not so much trust that damn music.

[bohemian_mark]

Roger blinks at Mark for a moment. "Hell, Angel. I missed that. Cohen, what the fuck's up with your voice? Angel's right. There was something odd with that last sentance."

Those closest to the Music are the least likely to notice it

Mark just stares. "I didn't notice anything."

[the_antiangst]

Angel sighs. "Fucking music never quite let go all the way. Granted, I don't think it's strong enough to make a comeback, which is good for everyone." Not least Mark. "But still."

[bohemian_mark]

"I never understood that." Roger blinks. "It was fucking scary, though, coming in and seeing this idiot.." Roger thwaps Mark. "about to shoot up."

"Roger!" Mark glares.

[the_antiangst]

"Mim already told me about that one, Mark. I'm only not holding it against you because you were about as far from your right mind as I've ever seen."
And then, for Roger's edification: "He didn't touch his camera for nearly two weeks. And then when he stopped thinking he was going to prduce a musical adaptation of Twelfth Night, the damn music nearly left him convinced he was me."
Whether that was better or worse than Mark not recognizing Angel two days before that... the jury's still out.

[bohemian_mark]

Roger winces massively. "He doesn't have the -legs- for that."

Mark just head-poles dramatically.

[the_antiangst]

"Honey, you hardly have to tell me that. I was there. Never been more glad to see someone fall off a table, either."

[bohemian_mark]

"I'm still here, guys!" Mark leans against the pole.

"Of course you are." There's a huge rockstar smirk from Roger. "If you weren't, we would be being nicer."

[the_antiangst]

"Hey, you falling off the table meant the music was gone and you were back in your right mind. Even if I did have to make you go get your ankle looked at before you hobbled off in search of your camera. Considering I think if that'd gone on much longer you'd be dead, I'll take it."

[bohemian_mark]

Roger snorts. "Mark would hobble around with his feet cut off if his camera was in danger."

"I wouldn't!"

"Yes, you would."

[the_antiangst]

"I recall a certain time you got the snot beaten out of you and barely gave yourself a second thought because the responsible parties also got your camera."
...Wait, did Roger know about that? Well, he does now.

[bohemian_mark]

"He what?" This time, Roger supremely thwaps Mark. "I.... I live with an insane person!"

"Oh, and sitting on your ass for seven months isn't insane?"

"I didn't put my own safety in jeopardy over a -thing-."

"You didn't?"

"Fuck you."

"No, thanks."

[the_antiangst]

"You're both nuts. I don't know how you would have survived each other's company this long if you weren't."

[bohemian_mark]

"I don't know why I put up with him." Roger throws up his arms. "I should just move out. The man's obviously insane."

"And you're not? Fine. Move out. See if I care."

"You'll be tracking me down in a week."

"No I won't. I've had it this time."