“No, don’t do it like that,” Giles said with a wince.

Cordelia glared at him but didn’t remove her hand from the gear shift.  “Look, Giles, do you want to get to the hospital or not?”

He cringed again as she threw his car into gear and launched them into the street.  Gravel from the back tires cleared the sidewalk and several hedges.  “Cordelia, there is a trick to the clutch which requires—“

He cut off again as the change into second gear was accompanied by a sharp spasm of grinding.  With visions of mechanics bills dancing alongside the stars before his eyes, he tried again, “Cordelia—“

“Giles, be quiet and hold your head.  You’re bleeding down your cheek.”

He transferred his handkerchief, already sodden, to his other temple.

“I think you should start wearing a helmet all the time, not that it wouldn’t look extremely dorky, because it would,” Cordelia said.  “But, obviously, you don’t care about how you look.  Just don’t get one of those silver bicycle helmets because they are so totally over.”

Giles opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it.

“So what’s our story when we get there?” she asked.

“Uh, mugging.”

“Again?  Didn’t you use that excuse last time and the time before?  How often are they going to believe you get mugged in a month?”

“It’s been over a month since I’ve been to the hospital.”

Cordelia snorted.  “Well, just don’t drag me into it.  I was an innocent passer by and stopped to help you out of compassion.”

Personally, Giles doubted she could make that story seem realistic but kept the thought to himself.

The bounce up the ramp to the emergency entrance laid to rest the myth that Giles’ car possessed shock absorbers.  His forehead hit the car roof, sending a stab of pain down his cheek and causing him to grunt in pain.

“Sorry,” Cordelia muttered.  She glanced over.  “You’re bleeding down the other side.  Do you want a kleenex or something?  I think I have one in my purse.”

“Let’s just go inside.”  He opened his door and took a tentative step out.

Cordelia came around to his side of the car.  “Do you want, like, help or anything?  I could give you my arm if you promise not to bleed on me.”

He sighed.  “No.  Thank you anyway.”

The nurse at the desk favoured him with a frown as she called for a wheelchair.  “Mr. Giles, hit in the head again?”  She handed him a pad of gauze.  “How did it happen this time?”

“I was mugged.”

“Really.  How…..unusual for you,” she said.  “Let’s see, they came up behind you in the dark, you didn’t get a good look, and you won’t be able to describe them to the police.  Health card, please.”

Cordelia eyed the nurse, somewhat impressed, and whispered to Giles, “Good memory.”

The nurse heard her.  “Repetition has that effect.  Did you witness it?”

“No,” Cordelia said.  “But there were a lot of them.”

Giles, holding the gauze to his head while checking his pockets with one hand, was starting to worry that his wallet actually had been stolen.  Cordelia, not wanting to touch him, pointed down vaguely and said, “What that’s in the front?”

“A stake,” he mumbled.

“No, you used that on a vampire,” she said.

“Umpire.” Giles corrected.

“Oh, right.”

The nurse stared at them.  “You were mugged by whom?”

“Umpires,” Cordelia said.

The nurse eyed her.  “Which one of you has the head trauma?”

“Perhaps you have a record of my insurance card on my file?” Giles asked.

“I need to see the card,” the nurse told him firmly.

“Oh for God’s sakes,” Cordelia cut in.  “I don’t want to be here all night!”  She jabbed a hand down the front pocket of Giles’ pants and fished around.

“Cordelia,” he sputtered.

“Like you’re not enjoying this,” she retorted.

“Truly, I’m not.”

She extracted his wallet.  “Here.  I knew this didn’t look like a stake, Giles.”  She opened the billfold and retrieved the requisite card.

“Most people, when they get mugged, lose their wallets,” the nurse commented.

The wheelchair came.  As the nurse helped Giles into it, she asked, “Would you like your friend to accompany you?”  There was a peculiar emphasis on the word ‘friend’.

“No,” Giles and Cordelia said simultaneously.

“Take him to x-ray first,” the nurse said to the orderly who chuckled.

“Same as always, eh?”

Cordelia paced idly around the waiting area.  As she passed by one of the doors leading outside, she caught her reflection in the glass.

“Damn,” she mumbled, craning her neck.

The nurse looked over.  “Is there a problem?”

Cordelia flopped into a chair.  “These were ninety-five dollar silk stockings.”

“If you don’t mind my saying, honey, get your friend to replace them while you can.”

“He’s not my friend,” Cordelia said, using the same tone in return.

“I’ve seen him in here before with two other young girls and both of them claimed the same thing,” the nurse said.  “One of them said he was her…..librarian.”  She raised an eyebrow significantly.

Cordelia stood.  In a frosty voice, she asked, “Which room is he in?”