[For Maureen]

[one__song]

"A mullet?!"

Seated on the couch in the rec room, a bowl of shitty popcorn perched between his legs, and he was watching some movie that the bookshelf wouldn't let up on called School of Rock. He figured it would be worth a viewing because then the shelf would leave him alone, but there he was, rocking out hardcore. With a mullet. And who the

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[drama_maureen]

Maureen walked in just as the closing credits were rolling, and she took one look at Roger's not-so-sunny disposition as he sat there slumped on the couch, and said, "I know what you need." This was, of course, without any sort of preface or greeting. It was just Maureen.

[one__song]

And just Maureen was just what Roger was used to. He turned his scowl on Maureen, though his mood was immediately lighter.

"Some kind of drug to make me forget the last hour and a half?" He dramatically let his head fall back against the padding of the couch.

[drama_maureen]

"Nope," Maureen informed him as she bounced over to him and grabbed his arm, hauling him off of the couch. "You need a dance. With me."

[one__song]

And Roger's ass was off the couch, but his weight sagged like it didn't want to be.

"Mo," Roger protested at length. "Why?" He was pouting. Sulking. He wasn't sure why, though, and she was on the fast track to ending that mood. Bitch.