Mark Cohen from Buzzline

[make_creation]

"And that ends our broadcast day. Good night, Tabula Rasa," Mark said, then shut the equipment down for the night. He had some maintenance to do and he'd stayed up until they went off the air so he could take care of it. Most everyone was in bed, so he didn't need to worry about interrupting anyone's show and the only one who had something after

Comments

[drama_maureen]

"Damn, and here I was hoping to perform a sex act over the air," Maureen said dryly, plopping into a chair and kicking her feet up onto some of the equipment. She looked up at Mark. "Oh, don't worry, I didn't mean with you, honey."

[make_creation]

"I didn't think you did," he replied, pushing his glasses up his nose. He knew Maureen well enough to not assume she meant him. Ever. Except sometimes, lately, he...he kind of wondered.

[drama_maureen]

Oh, she would have if she could. Watching him fiddle with his glasses like that made her want to toss them off of his face, climb onto his lap, and start pulling off his clothes.

... except she didn't. Because he had a boyfriend. And whereas that usually wouldn't be that much of an impediment to her, this time it was.

Goddamnit. Why couldn't Prior have just stayed with Roger? This was all Roger's fault. Fucking Roger.

"I've been trying to come up with ideas for a show on Saturday," she said, trying to get the previous sex fantasy image out of her mind. "Any thoughts?"

[make_creation]

"About your sex show? God, I don't know," he replied. "Is there anything you haven't covered?"

[callmecassandra]

"Don't worry," Barbara said, squinting at the radio equipment. She'd seen it when Glenn had interviewed her, but she hadn't been there to specifically look at the setup. "Mind me taking a look around?" Her mouth quirked into a smile. "Promise, I'm not going to run off with a transistor or anything." She'd be more concerned about hooking things into the system then taking them out.

"Barbara Gordon," she said in way of introduction, already peering at the machinery - and not even looking at Mark.

[make_creation]

"Look around? No...go right ahead. You know your way around the equipment? This was state of the art in 1985," Mark replied, trying and failing to not gawk at the chair. It was just...unusual. In New York he'd have never even blinked, but here...

[callmecassandra]

She squinted at it. "That doesn't mean all that much has changed." She looked over her shoulder, her mouth quirking in a smile. "State of the art. Lucky for me, because otherwise I'd be pretty stuck around here." There'd been one other person in a wheelchair, but Jason was long gone.

"Do you have a name?"

[make_creation]

"Me? Oh. Mark. I'm Mark," he stammered, moving closer to offer his hand. "Mark. Cohen."

[so_heavy]

"No worries, man," Max calls through the door, having peeked in for just a moment to confirm that there was, in fact, a person in there instead of a monkey or ghost or whatever the fuck else the island might decide was good to have in a basement. "I'm just doing some laundry, didn't want to screw up your broadcast."

[make_creation]

"Oh, uh, it's not a problem. I'm not really part of the broadcasting staff. I just take care of the equipment," Mark explained. "I'm, um, I'm Mark."

[so_heavy]

"Max," he offers in turn with a little wave, and ducks back into the other room to begin shoving his clothes in a washer. He has no idea which are his and which are Jude's, but somebody's got to do the wash eventually. "Why don't you do the broadcasting?" he calls over his shoulder as he's measuring out some detergent.

[make_creation]

"Me? Oh, I take care of the equipment. Roger and Neil are in charge of the broadcasting." He was always better behind the lens, and doing voice over wasn't the same as being on the air.