Hospital 101 With Miles & Trent

Miles:	So, here's Miles, sitting. Sitting next to a stupid jock who can't drive, who's passed out on a hospital bed, in a hospital room. He really doesn't like hospitals much, but he feels... well, a little guilty. After all, it was his fault the other went crashing into a pole - kind of. Stupid jerk should have watched where he was going. Either way, he's sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to a passed out Trent, flipping through an outdated magazine. Stupid, stupid jock.
Trent:	-Without his knowledge, his nose has been repaired and properly bandaged, been put on some minor pain medication, and been cleaned and checked up as much as the hospital staff could do. His shirt had been taken away long ago, and due to the fact he has only been in here a couple hours he's remained in only a pair of pants and nothing more. Which may be in part why he started to awaken, his back slightly itchy from the starch, white sheets and skin chilled by the air. His face feels funny, too...-
Miles:	Miles notices the other starting to move a bit, and he tosses the magazine to the side, leaning over and glaring at Trent. He may be pouting a little, too, who knows. But he's not about to directly say anything - a glare should be sufficient! >\|
Trent:	-Later, Trent would blame the drugs for his immediate reaction, but at the time he only took notice to two things when he arose from his pain induced slumber: he was pretty much naked and he wasn't alone. For him, this could one thing, and one thing only.- ...oh god, how drunk was I to think you were gonna be any good?
Miles:	At first, Miles didn't quite catch that - but as soon as his slightly frazzled brain puts the other's statement into context, he turns bright red, gaping at Trent like a fish out of water. WHAT?!
Trent:	-Winces, the banshee screech aggravating his sensitive ears and forming the beginnings of a headache. Openly scowling, he sounds indignant as he yells back as loud as he dares.- Ugh, and you're a screamer. Fuck, what was I thinking...
Miles:	Still blushing furiously, Miles jabs a finger at Trent's chest, glowering full on now. What the hell are you thinking?! You're in the hospital, you asshole!
Trent:	...we were that rough? -Looking confused, his eyes dart around the room, examining all the supplies that prove the other is right.-
Miles:	Now, not only is he blushing, but he looks mortally embarrassed, making a few strangled noises and staring at Trent in absolute shock. W-What the hell are y-you TALKING about? Don't you remember? You nearly hit me with your car, but you missed and hit a pole and you broke your nose and lost a lot of blood, and you started blabbing about deserts or something so I called 911 and they took you here! W-We -- We didn't do ANYTHING!
Trent:	...
Trent:	Oh fuck.
Trent:	-That sums everything up for him into a nice, mangled, brutally beaten, hastily wrapped package. A horror stricken part of him is almost remorseful at not having the original turnout. Under the influence of booze, he could have easily blamed this all away, even if his stomach roiled at the thought of being happy to have done...well, it didn't happen, so no worrying about that.- My mom is going to kill me.
Miles:	His head reels for a few seconds at the sudden change of topic, and then he sits back in his chair with a harrumph, crossing his arms and pouting. No she isn't. Stop being so dramatic. Never mind that he's the one getting all huffy.
Trent:	No, you don't get it. -Sinking into the crinkly, uncomfortable 'mattress', he looks almost ill.- She's judge, jury and executioner for death row.
Miles:	Dude, seriously. She's your mom. Chill out. Still, despite his own knowledge that mothers do not generally equal homicidal killing sprees, he feels a twinge of sympathy (or maybe pity?) for the jock. Are you feeling any better?
Trent:	-Rolling his eyes at the dumb question, his lip turns up in a slight sneer to start throwing out every single reason as to why he this situation is bad, not for him, but for Miles, especially when he gets a hold of him, but...-
Trent’s Mother:	WHERE IS HE?! -The shout is shrill, almost deafening, and easily bounces off the hallway walls to echo down the space and fill each and every room with its deadly cry. The harsh click-clack of high heels pounding on the tiled floor grows closer and closer, until a face appears to match the impending doom. A model of about 4'7" enters the room, head swiveling around and sending mixed blond tresses all over the place until she spots Trent, then she's storming over to him, all her massive fury directed solely towards him.-
Miles:	Miles yelps as he hears someone shrieking down the halls, and it takes him a second to match that booming voice to the small woman now storming over towards him and Trent. He scoots his chair back, nearly toppling over, as he moves to get the hell out of the lady's way, staring from her, to Trent, then back again. He sort of has that same rabbit-look on his face as he did when he nearly got run over earlier.
Trent:	-He has enough time to deliver a sad, almost orphan-like expression, telling Miles to get out, to be free, to run away while he still can...-
Trent’s Mother:	-Gives the boy a quick once over, her hot red lips wilting into a frown that has her high cheek bones twisting. Like a whirlwind, she moves, pouncing on Trent, sharp, manicured nails out stretched...and envelopes him in the most dramatic of hugs, her well sculpted arms barely managing to get completely around him.- MY BABY. MY PRECIOUS BABY!
Miles:	.....He scoots back just a bit more. Just to be safe. But when Miles tries to open his mouth to say something, all he can seem to get out is- ...Um. ...So he'll just shut it, for now. He does* give Trent a look - a "Precious baby? Seriously?" sort of look.*
Trent:	-Easily glares over the head of the woman sobbing on him and pins Miles with it, threatening with his vision alone an untimely, viscous swirly for this if Miles tells anyone. Hell, friends, family members, his dog, everyone would be punished via swirly if Miles spreads this around.-
Trent’s Mother:	I got the call, and I saw the car, and MY GOD YOUR FACE. -Pulling back, she grabs him by the chin, forcefully turning his head around.- This is terrible! Did you break it? By GOD, if this needs plastic surgery, I'm going to sue! Does it hurt, baby? Do you need some ice? Let mommy go and get you some ice. -Turning to do just that, she finally spots the other occupant of the room, demeanor instantly changing.- And...you are? -Asked coldly.-
Miles:	Uh oh. ABORT, ABORT screams Miles' mind - but his mouth has other plans. ...Uh... Um, M-Miles. Lancaster...? Um. Hi.
Trent’s Mother:	-Eyes him up and down too, her dark lashes fanning downwards to give her a completely disinterested look.- Is there a reason you're loitering around?
Miles:	...Um... Weakly ...I was just, uh, making sure Trent was all right, I mean, he was really out of it when the ambulance came and I felt kind of bad because he nearly hit me when I was crossing the road but he swerved so he didn't and I was just making sure he was okay because I, uh, just wanted to because it's not fun... um... waking up in hospitals... um. Alone. He really, really* needs to stop with this babbling thing.*
Trent’s Mother:	-The more he talks, the more her eyes widen, to the point her jaw has to start working its way down because otherwise, her sockets would have gotten far too wide.- WHAT?! -Swiftly, she turns her attention to Trent, her posture promising nothing but torment.- Is this true?!
Trent:	-Now it's Trent's turn to look fearful, his jaw working but nothing coming out, self preservation having to kick in eventually just to give him a small chance at survival.- No! Well, sort of, but not really! See, it's like this... Miles over there got in front of the car! If he had only decided to look both ways none of this would have happened!
Miles:	Survival of the fittest, bro, and Miles has been conditioned by years of dealing with guys like you. You were going, like, really fast! You should have seen me crossing the street, it isn't like I just jumped in front of your car or something! Miles even throws in a hurt look - he stayed with you while you were knocked out, man!
Trent’s Mother:	-Her hands go to her luscious hips, remaining there as she looks between them in a displeased manner, though you could really only tell by the slightest wrinkling of her nose. When she's fed up enough, she goes over, grabs Miles by the ear, then wrestles him over to Trent, where she grabs his as well.- THAT IS ENOUGH. BOTH OF YOU. I don't know who you are, but do your parents even know where you are? They must be worried sick by now! And just walking into the street like that...I dearly hope you were taught better than that! And Trent... -Surely, if she could breathe fire, it would be coming out her mouth right now as she seethed.- You should be ashamed. This is the THIRD CAR NOW. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH YOU'VE COST YOUR FATHER AND I?! Oh, when we get home...
Miles:	OW OW OW OW. Who was this crazy lady grabbing his ear?! I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, all I wanted was a bag of chips and maybe a soda, it was like the afternoon, no one ever drives down those streets and I thought it'd be okay and they do I called them from the pay phone! Okay, good job sounding like a little girl, Miles.
Trent:	-At the risk of looking completely undignified, he resorts to the lowest of tactics.- Moooom, that hurts!
Trent’s Mother:	-Tightening her hold on the both of them in silent command for them to both be silent, she continues.- Honeybunches, I HOPE it hurts! Your father and I raised you better than this. WHAT IF YOU'D KILLED SOMEONE, HUH? That's it, no more new ANYTHING for you for the next decade! You are GROUNDED for this! And I'm having your father contact his brother and see about a used car in a couple weeks PROVIDED YOU BEHAVE YOURSELF. -Turning a frosty glare to Miles, she snaps.- AND YOU! WHAT HAVE YOU LEARNED FROM THIS?
Miles:	...Miles is now a combination of bright red from earlier embarrassment, in pain from his ear being pulled, and significantly cowed by Trent's mom. ...Um... look both ways before crossing the street?
Trent’s Mother:	Good boy. -With those magic words, Miles is released from his strong bonds, the woman shooing him off.- I appreciate you looking after my irresponsible son, but you really should be running along. I'll take over from here. -And by takeover, she means with excessive amounts of force. That is to say, get out while you still can!-
Miles:	...U-um. All right. Uh, sorry about this, Trent, I'll, uh, see you at school or something, I hope you feel better? He's already edging the hell out of the room, giving Trent a slightly apologetic kind of look. Sorry, buddy, but you're on your own here.
Trent:	-Has long since forgotten all about Miles' presence, eyes widened and mouth dropped in pure horror at the words used car, used car, USED CAR. His loud protests and his mother's harsh responses follow his schoolmate well down to the point of the elevator at the other end of the hallway.-