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Trent wasn't very used to others looking away from him, and it made him feel a little awkward. He watched the twitching smile on Strelein's face as he asked what they said. Trent didn't remember all of it, but he remembered, "Something about drinking." When he said 'drinking', he sounded thoroughly confused, because, well, he was. Trent had never heard of alcohol in his life, and so how could someone 'drink' themselves into a stupor? Last Trent checked, drinking was a good thing. You know, needed to stay alive, and all. "... And that you weren't there for us anymore." Trent couldn't confirm or deny whether this was true, because he hadn't been there for anyone in quite some time, and he hadn't even had a clue that Strelein was getting so much worse. Let alone that he wasn't doing things he should've been doing.
Trent watched the bed a moment as Strelein gestured for it, as though he wasn't really going to, but then stepped towards it and sat down. Felt a lot more comfy than the sucky matress in his room, the one that he and Terra had salvaged from somewhere (but, when you were used to earth in the ground, even a sucky matress was pretty good). It made Trent want to lay down and take a nap... But luckily, he remembered in time that he was in someone else's room, yikes. Better not take a nap right now, then.
The word 'alcohol' was about as foreign to Trent as the concept of drinking oneself into a stupor. He did smell that there was something here, but had no idea if it was this alcohol thing (nor that it was a liquid, as one and one hadn't yet been tied up into two). "Err, alcohol's fine," he said after a moment of visible hesitation. He didn't want to be rude and get upset that Strelein only had something he might not want, so Trent decided to just pretend that he had every idea of what it was, and that it was fine.
The fact that Strelein needed an ear made Trent feel a bit better, because he really hoped that he would be able to help. And, if someone didn't want his meagre friendship or a shoulder to cry on, then he wouldn't be of much use. Now, though, he could listen, and feel competent about himself in the process. "I'm all ears," he said, and twitched his long coyote-like ears. Shit, that had to be the worst joke ever. Quickly he corrected himself, "Err, I mean, I'd love to listen, and, uh, talk for a bit. You know, hang out."
As Strelein pulled out the bottle, things became slightly clearer to Trent, and since he'd already agreed to try some of the alcohol he nodded. "Lighter's good." He had no idea what would happen to him through this, after all -- although Trent's life was a joke at the moment anyway, so he didn't fret too much about it -- so starting with something light seemed good.
Trent wasn't usually one to start deep conversations -- in fact, he never had before in his life -- but somehow, when it concerned someone else's deep subjects of life, well, it was a lot easier. He didn't like talking about his own life because it made him feel hollow inside, but maybe talking about Strelein's would make him feel better. And besides, Trent was curious what plagued the man... What had made him get... Well, here, behind closed curtains with a look on his face that reeked of death. "So ah... What happened..?" The words came out all awkward and strange, but at least they'd come out. Trent looked at Strelein's face, and he hoped that it wouldn't hit a too sensitive chord... He just wanted to help, and the first step to recovery was accepting all the bad shit... Right?