Bobby sat, slouched over, in the beige Hospital chair. The walls were a bleak white and everything smells like ammonia. He grimaced, flipping the page in the random magazine he'd found next to Jack's bed. A nurse in an oversized shirt speckled in colorful balloons entered. Her bony fingers clutched a clipboard and pen.
"If you'll just sign there, Mr. Mercer." She said to Jack, who was sitting on the edge of the bed he'd occupied for close to a month, his bag packed and sitting next to him.
He took the pen, scratched loosely on the paper and handed it back to her. She didn't smile she just turned her back and shuffled out of the room.
"You ready?" Bobby asked agitated, rising and tossing the magazine in the mini plastic trashcan.
"Yea," Jack said happily.
Bobby slung the bag over his shoulder. He and Jack walked side by side slowly out of the Hospital.
"So Jerry and I were thinking of going out for a few drinks tonight." Bobby said, hitting the elevator arrow that pointed down. "To celebrate you coming home and all."
"I can't drink yet Bobby, I have to wait like a whole month." Jack frowned.
"It's alright, you can drive me home sweetheart." Bobby smirked.
Jack pressed the button for the ground level harder then necessary and the elevator doors slid shut.
"It' too bad Angel's in L.A." Bobby said, tossing Jack's small duffle into the back seat of the car, "He'd love a night of drinking."
"Not as much as you." Jack retorted dryly. Smirking at his own attempt at a dig at his brother.
'C'mon, fairy, put your seatbelt on, that took longer then I thought," Bobby said shifting the car into gear, "Jerry's probably already at the bar."
"Shit man," Jack sighed, clicking his belt into place, "I just got out of the hospital."
"Yea well, welcome back to the world of the living."