Mark is staring, not at the paper, not in curiousity, but at Roger, and he moves his hand to grab Billy's shoulder, squeezing it gently, as he picks up the camera and rises. It was his way of saying he won't film the letter, or even Billy. Just Roger's face.

It's no wonder, too, because Roger--strong, steady Roger, Roger who has been through so much. Through his last girlfriend, through Mimi's unfortunate end, to this. This moment.

There's only this, Mark thinks. Right now, this is everything. This is the moment, this is connection in an isolated age. Suddenly, this isn't about art. This isn't about a documentary. This is Mark desperately trying to film his best friend just before he dies. He just wants a fond memory. He wants this moment.

"Wow," Roger finally says, and his voice cracks just a touch. "I... I don't know what to say," Roger tries again, and Mark slides over so he's on the couch's arm, camera down, touching Roger's shoulder this time. Roger doesn't take his hand but he does lean into it, still staring.

"I'd say you paid for this to happen, but you're just as broke as me," He finishes finally, and Mark laughs, finally peering over the paper. Roger, looking up--desperate, with tears in his eyes--gets up and, without any warning, proceeds to wrap Billy up in a bear hug, whooping with delight.

"I'm going to finish it," Roger's saying. "I'm going to finish one great song. Mark?"

"Rolling." He lifts up the camera as Roger scrambles out of the way so Billy can't be seen.

"Hey, AIDS! Zoom in on this--" both middle fingers in the air, and he turns around only to drop his pants and moon Mark's camera.

"Eloquent," Mark observes, and Roger, laughing for the first time in ages, moves back to the chair.

"Holy shit," He pushes his hair away from his face. "I just got a letter from CHAOS."