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Someone was banging on Mark's office door, and probably, waking him up from a really nice nap about being beautiful and good-looking and stuff.

"Mark!" Lucky shouted at the door, making an impatient face when it did not immediately open. He hadn't yet remembered he could actually use the door handle to open it. Nor did he really feel he needed to, once he finally realized it was there. Honestly. He was far too good-looking to be bothered with things like opening doors himself. He placed both hands on his hips and tried yelling again. "We need to, like, talk!"

There was a series of clangs and least one shout of 'this door is stupid why do we even have doors', before it finally swung open.

"This door is stupid, why do we even have doors?" he repeated as he strutted in, just in case Mark hadn't heard him the first time.

"AND YOU KNOW I CAN'T READ ANY MORE!" He tore the glasses off his face dramatically and pouted. Mark was so insensitive sometimes. "I had to give it up, Mark. Fake glasses are the latest style."

They were, in fact, the same (prescription) glasses Lucky had always worn.

Despite his myopia, he seemed to be awestruck by whatever blurry shape Mark's smolder appeared to him as. Lucky leaned against the nearest wall and struck a pose. "Mark, I don't know how to tell you this - your face should be on a magazine. I am not exaggerating. You should copyright it. You should make a magazine so you can put your face on it."

His train of thought finally came around again, and he pushed his glasses back on his face with an ominous glint. "... but you can do that after you answer some questions I have."

"Whoah, you must be, like, multi-literural." Lucky finally sat down in a chair he had excavated from a mountain of empty beer cans. "Whoah. That does sound painful. I'm sorry. Keep your face exactly where it is for now."

Lucky crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, dislodging a small avalanche of cans in the process. "Mark, the reason I came here to ask you questions is because... I have a problem."

He did a dramatic double-take just to clarify how serious and surprising this news was.

"We. We have a problem." He reached out and clapped a hand on Mark's shoulder because they were having a moment. "Sorry, I forgot that everyone else is also going to die horribly if we don't stop it, but then I remembered! I mean. It's bad, though. I guess?"

"Anyway since we are all way too good-looking to just die like that, I just need to know what you know about that... what's the word for it? Gra- gri- gob- grrraaa- I don't know what it's called. It's a magic cup." He had kept a straight face up until this point but it finally broke and he started laughing hysterically at the idea of a cup that turned people into well-spoken zombies. "It's just - when I say it out loud now it actually sounds kind of silly."

He was still wiping a few tears from his eyes when Mark got serious. Lucky pantomimed a 'mind blown' effect around his head with his hands. "I didn't know you had a kid!"

The non-sequitur did take him by surprise for a second. Lucky blinked slowly. Oh, was that all Mark wanted for the information? Well, Lucky could see why - he looked pretty fabulous today. And he did smell like strawberries thanks to borrowing Maebe's shampoo for almost a week now. He flashed a flattered grin to Mark. "If you insist.

Before Mark could have done anything to escape his fate, Lucky had leaned across the gap between their seats and kissed Mark full on the lips.

Lucky seemed pretty pleased with himself as he sat back down again, until Mark's eyes grew dark.

"No, I know." He ran his hand through his hair to mess it up perfectly again. He also pulled out his phone and opened his white noise generator to 'Rainstorm with Thunder'. "I've known for some time now, Mark..."

He buried his perfect face in his hands. "But what does Dwight have that I don't??"

Mark's explanation prompted Lucky to finally extricate himself from the self-pitying session he'd folded himself into. Mark did have a point there. "Yeah, of course."

And then, because he had never actually seen a spring roll before in his life, he held up his phone and mumbled a memo into it. The phone was entirely incapable of doing this and continued to make rain noises. "Reminder: look up spring rolls later."

He placed it in his lap again and gazed passionately at Mark. The phone gave a tinny rumble of recorded thunder. "I just thought what we had was special. Even if it wasn't exotic."

"This isn't about you, Mark," he frowned, clutching the phone possessively. "There's more to my life than being really really really ridiculously good looking. Like asking the internet questions about stuff when I think of them. You never understand me."

"You are good looking. Probably the most good looking person I've seen, like, today." Except for himself in the mirror, but he was sure Mark already knew that. "It's just that, like. Sometimes I think you're hiding things from me. Like you're not being totally honest with me about what you're thinking. You know?"

"But Mark, what if you do?" Lucky placed a supportive hand on Mark's knee, along with a modeling headshot he had printed out in black and white earlier in the labs. "What if you are not only ruggedly handsome but also have another slightly less amazing gift too? Maybe to see who you really are and what you can do, you need to look inside yourself."

"For the two brains," he added helpfully, in case that hadn't been clear.