(Untitled)

[one__song]

For once, numbness wasn't setting in on its own. Two joints and a swig from a jug of moonshine long-ago commandeered from someplace or another, Roger was still feeling the guilt, the misery, the deep hurt. Fights with April had been either inconsequential or incoherent (especially the latter, toward the end), fights with Mark were... explosive,

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[red_ponytail]

He'd stuck his head into the Hub looking for someone else and had found Roger instead. Bill frowned slightly, noticing that Roger looked less than okay. So he did what any good mate would - he pointed it out. "You look like shit, mate," he commented as he walked in, but his expression was one of concern.

[one__song]

Ah, Bill. Bill Weasley was becoming more and more important to Roger as time went on. Somehow, his gentle strength in pushing Roger in the direction of off his ass when he was bedridden with angst after Mimi's death had promoted him to a higher level of friendship, and Roger valued him. Desperately.

"That's sweet," Roger said flatly, but he offered a sidelong look that suggested no hostility toward the man at all.

[red_ponytail]

Clearly something was eating at Roger, and Bill didn't have any idea what. "Something happen?" he asked, wondering if there'd been yet another sodding disappearance. At least this time, whatever the problem, Roger wasn't unshowered, unfed, and laying about in bed.

[one__song]

Lots of people were going to have to work hard to get the story of out Roger, and even then, he was unlikely to budge, but when he looked at Bill, he saw a man that he trusted, a man he feared would one day get tired of trying and give up. Above all, he saw a friend who knew better than to offer idle words under the guise of comfort. He trusted Bill, and he'd rather Bill heard it from him than someone else.

"I was cheating on Prior," he admitted, the words aloud tasting like poison. "For a long time. Months. And I finally told him."

[drama_maureen]

Maureen walked into the hub because she recognized the back of Roger's head. She was immediately glad that she looked her best, because it was always nice to have a high confidence level when you were about to chew someone out. She was wearing her favorite red dress - curve hugging, lots of cleavage, and red high highs that did amazing things to her calves.

She slid onto the stool next to Roger, crossed her legs, and smiled sweetly.

"You are such a big fucking moron."

[one__song]

That was the wrong thing to say. Granted, there were hundreds of combinations of words that would have fallen under that same category, but the words and the person uttering them was the wrong one-two punch.

He was out on words- words were fucking retarded and never did what he wanted time to- so he just pushed off from the bar and headed for the door.

[drama_maureen]

"Roger," Maureen groaned, and slid off of the stool to hurry after him. "Look, given the condition that I just left one of my best friends in I felt kind of obligated to open with that. But now I want to hear your side. Okay? You look like shit!" When he didn't turn right away she added in an almost plaintive, pleading tone, "I know what it's like to be the moron remember?"

[one__song]

Best friend? All of a sudden she and Prior were best friends? Of course, that was Maureen for you, ever present in the face of the possibility of great drama. Of course Prior was her best friend, now, because it put her in an awkward position, and there was nothing Maureen loved more than thrusting herself in the middle of a situation so that she was a part of it.

Or maybe she'd been talking about someone else.

"Yeah, I know, which is exactly why you're not gonna be calling me a moron," Roger said, despite the fact that he was. He'd been reamed by Prior, was doubtlessly going to be reamed by Belize, and worst of all was the situation with Mark. Jesus fucking Christ.

His hands jammed through his hair, possibly tugging back a little too hard to be healthy. He wanted out. Worse than that: for the first time, he wanted off the island. Fuck three meals a day and fuck free meds and fuck everyone he knew that he would never see again because home may not be warm or free, but it was a place where none of this had ever happened.

[squint_artist]

It wasn't the first time that Angela had wandered by the Hub only to see someone she knew looking to drown themselves in something alcoholic enough to burn away anything they didn't want to feel. Angela could guess what this was about. She didn't think too highly of him for cheating on his boyfriend, but she also didn't think too badly of him. Cheating happened. There were worse things in the world that people could do to each other, even though it hurt like hell and wasn't right.

She sidled quietly into the bar, sliding onto a seat next to Roger. Her nose wrinkled a little at the scent of alcohol already on him. "Long day?" she asked companionably.

[one__song]

Angela had a way of finding Roger at his lowest, and unlike Roger with Jack Harkness, he didn't really find himself bitter about it. Unlike Roger, Angela had the power of patience on her side, and she seemed to have elements of harmony flowing out of every floral pattern and hippie stitch she wore. That was Angela, and in a perfect world, he would want her, possibly even despite her scary, verging-on-albino boyfriend.

"Long night," he corrected, a hand scratching through his hair. He could feel the gobs of salt from the air obstruct the path and gave up before making a complete pass, at which point his hand flopped noisily onto the bar. He turned his head and offered a curl of his lips up for a short moment, an offering of sorts.

[squint_artist]

Her eyebrows curved into slender half circles, but her eyes were kind and understanding. Angela had one time been on both sides of the cheating issue, and neither one was really a good side.

"What happened?" she asked. She figured it was a fight, but it would have been wrong to presume and would probably only put him on the defensive.

[one__song]

How to approach that question? He was unsuspecting as to the conversation she'd had with Mark, and had foolishly thought that his business could remain his own on that tiny, gossip-ridden fucking island, and worse yet, Roger didn't much pay attention. To anything.

"Prior and I..." what? Broke up? Ended? That made it sound amicable. It wasn't. They'd been a chair and a mullet away from an episode of the Jerry Springer show.

He snorted. "I'm surprised you didn't hear it from across the island."

[traveltobelize]

Belize sauntered up to Roger, carefully adjusting the buttons on the shirt he was wearing.

"Look, I know you're probably drowning your sorrows and the like, and more power to you girl, but can we have a talk?" Belize looked at him and pitied him. It was obvious in his glare. "I meant like, now."

[one__song]

Yeah, that was likely. Even less likely was that Roger was going to put up with a beating from Sister I Told You So.

"Look, I got plenty from Prior, alright? If you wanna attack me, give me five minutes between rounds." God, he wanted another drink. Craved it, more like it.

[neptune_sleuth]

Veronica didn't spend a lot of time in the Hub as a rule -- after all, it was still a bar, and alcohol and Veronica Mars were two great tastes that didn't go so well together -- but she stopped as she walked down the path anyway. Sometimes, it seemed worth her while to go in, and right now, Roger was looking pretty pathetic. That chalked up to being worth at least a glance, anyway. "What happened to you?" she asked, leaning against a column, arms folded, brow raised. "Someone scratch your guitar?"

[one__song]

His brain didn't register the voice right away, so he slid his eyes to the peripheral and moved his head just enough so that he didn't look like Linda Blair had taken a whack at his persona.

"Hey, Veronica," he croaked, voice roughened from alcohol and cigarettes and a night that was too long to have been only one night. "Been a while."

[neptune_sleuth]

"I've been a busy girl." It was comparatively true anyway. Busy here was boredom back home, but then, she was a long way and a long time from home. She quirked her lips to the side, brow raising as she walked further inside. Her hands were in her pockets. "I take it you've been keeping busy, too."

[one__song]

Roger snorted. 'Busy' was one of those cruelly ironic words, since having two boyfriends (he would only refer to Brian as such in the safety of his own head, since if he were to utter it aloud, Brian would throw a twenty-nine-plus-two-year-old tantrum and knock him square on his ass) was incredibly time consuming and ended in an equally time consuming fit of depression.

So, yeah, busy was something Roger understood. If fucking up was a career, than he was just drowning in work. Super busy. Married to the job.

"Yeah," he said, a hand running over the surface of the bar, restless in the absence of a drink in his hand.