The sight of a basically lifeless looking Maureen only confirmed Mark's suspicion that he had a need to worry. Maureen wasn't lifeless. Maureen was life. It just...radiated from her. It was what drew people to her. Men, women, kids, dogs in Central Park... Whatever. So to see her looking kind of, well, limp? Very disturbing.
He forced a smile, but really, other than maybe Roger, who knew him better than Maureen? She'd see right through it and he knew it, but Mark couldn't make himself care. She was smarter than this. Hell, she was better than this.
If she had slammed the door on him, he wouldn't have been as offended as he probably should have been. But really, it was a good thing she didn't. When he was determined, Mark followed through. And he'd stand outside that door and talk her ear off until she let him in. Or at least acknowledged his existence.
"Hi," he replied, looking as cheerful as he could considering how, well, pitiful she looked. He held up his hands, offering a styrofoam container. "We had chocolate cake left tonight. Frankly, I don't need any more calories and Roger's looking a little round around the middle. Thought you might be interested?" Okay, so it was a cheap tactic. Or a peace offering, whichever she preferred. But he'd rather she be eating cake than drinking her weight in liquor, so he was going to offer. So be it.