(Untitled)

[bohemian_mark]

A rockstar appears through where the door would be, falling backwards, covered in mud, a ball flying into the Inn after him. "I caught it, Cohen! You totally owe me.."

Through the door after him, comes Mark, also covered in mud, and facepalming. "Damnit, Roger, that was not supposed to happen."

Please bug. They probably need a towel.

Comments

[lvpd_sidle]

".........Mark, don't even think about touching me until you've had a shower."

Sara's amusement level is HIGH.

[bohemian_mark]

Mark facepalms, which only succeedes in covering his face with more mud. "Um. Sorry. It was...."

"It was his idea." Roger smirks. "He thought we should go roll in the mud." Yes, that's a bit of an evil grin.

[lvpd_sidle]

"Somehow, I'm not entirely surprised."

[bohemian_mark]

"It wasn't me! I swear." Mark sighs.

Roger eyes him. "Who started a football game in the Lot?"

"Carrot."

[offinjamieland]

There's a writer over at one of the tables cracking up.

It just might be at the muddy boys.

[bohemian_mark]

There just might be a bit of mud tossed at the writer. It certainly wouldn't be from a filmmaker. Not at all.

[offinjamieland]

"Oi, Rubie, fuck, these are my good pants!"

Oops?

[bohemian_mark]

"Oh my god, you didn't." Roger cracks up, falling over in a smll pile of mud. "I don't even know who the fuck you are, but I think I love you."

Mark glares at Jaime. "I think I hate you now."