In response, Roger fished some gloves out of his pocket and pulled his hoop up over his tumbleweed of hair. He lowered himself onto his ass before he even considered putting them on, and stole a swig of whiskey before even that.

"Wanna get a little more specific?" Roger pushed, feeling more and more like Mark every day. Usually brooding on the roof (or balcony, in his case) was Roger's trick, and following to ask asinine questions, that was all Mark's territory. If he stopped to think about it, Roger probably would pretend he didn't give a shit at all.