"I'd find Mimi," Mark says simply. Like that would make sense to the other. There's no way it would but it's mostly because they're out of the alley now, and he'd just seen the steeple of a familiar church. The same steeple he filmed on halloween last year. It was a good and bad thing, that was for sure.

A little further down the street, though, there's someone on the curb near an old phone booth that no one's used in ages. There's a plastic bucket from home depot and a pair of well used but well cared drumsticks drumming. They're in the hands of a dark skinned, possibly mixed man with short black hair and extremely pouty lips, but he doesn't seem to notice anything or anyone. All he's doing is drumming.

He's good, too. Extremely. And all he cares about is the music and the rythm and it seems Mark is sidetracked yet again. He doesn't have any coin to give Angel, obviously, but he pulls our his camera. Shoots the other and the street drummer doesn't even realize it.

Mark is directly behind Angel when Angel opens his eyes, looks up at Billy. He grins a wide, easy smile. "Honest living?" He asks. Spare some change?