Gregory House, M.D. (every1_lies) wrote in notlupus_rpg,
Gregory House, M.D.
every1_lies
notlupus_rpg

House and a Puzzle; Cuddy and a Vacation [bonus!]

scruffylies: He'd thought of it like this: of all the ways he could have pestered her, this one seemed the most direct.
 
House took a long swallow from the beer bottle, set it carefully down on the ground next to his foot. The room was utterly dark, save the light from the video game on the arm of the chair. He'd let himself in carefully, settled in for a wait, but still... Running late tonight, are we? he thought. 
 
Oh, well. Time for one more round. And, stretching carefully, House picked up the Nintendo DS, the digital music and sound effects loud. Within seconds, he was completely absorbed.
 
 
Negotiatory: She was a doctor. It wasn't exactly as if they had set schedules, and the fact that this was the first leave she'd taken that wasn't hospital business in... she wasn't even positive how long, there had been more than a few last minute details to hammer out to make sure things ran smoothly in her absence. It wasn't that she didn't trust her staff, she was just accustomed to handling what she handled, and turning that loose, even if it was only for a week, wasn't exactly an easy process. Lisa's head was still in a report she'd most likely have to rush through when she got back when she maneuvered through the front door and flicked the front room light on, so she was a full two steps inside and partially through peeling out of her jacket when she noticed the strange noise generating from a room further back in the house. Carefully frowning, she edged in the general direction, turning into the den just as she noticed dim light coming from it. Had she left the television on?
 
 
scruffylies: House smirked, hearing the front door open, and when he glanced away from the small game screen, he saw the light from the front filtering in. About time.
 
He glued his eyes to the game, taking a moment to move his thumb over the volume control, turning up the small machine so there'd be no doubt that there was someone back here. He offered a low whistle as he passed a particularly difficult stage, and let the stylus relax in his hand as he waited for her to walk into the room. Eyes on the game, Greg. Eyes on the game.
 
 
Negotiatory: Lisa froze as she entered the arched hall that lead into her den, having picked out the silhouette of a slumped figure in one of her armchairs. Tensing in bewildered startlement, eyes cast a wild glance about the room as if expecting some sort of absurd ambush before she focused her attention a little harder. The glow was coming from the figure and not the television.
 
The knot in her stomach loosened in afterthought and she reached out to slap a hand against the nearby lightswitch, bathing the room in a sudden yellow glow and revealing the intruder.
 
"House? What the hell are you doing? In my home? In the dark?" Playing gameboy of all things. She wouldn't even ask how he got in, moreso preoccupied with the continuing rush of frightened adrenaline and the struggle her mind was waging against the urge to grab the nearest blunt object and beat him with it.
 
 
scruffylies: To House's credit, he didn't flinch when the light went on, though he did have to squint a bit. He waited until the game gave him his score before he looked up, answering as if his being in her home, in the dark, was an everyday occurrence. "I'm playing Trauma Centre: Under the Knife. You wanna try?" He shifted the DS into his left hand, tucked the stylus behind his ear. House leaned a little to his right, snagged his beer -- her beer, really -- from the floor. That look on her face... priceless.
 
 
Negotiatory: "…does it have real knives?" Of course she knew the answer to the question -- it was a game -- but right then she was so completely stunned by his presence that it was the safest response she could muster that didn't involve actual violence. "-- because you know that under our current justice system, people do get away with murder in their homes when there's trespassing involved." Pale blue eyes gravitated carpetward as he leaned to pick up... a beer. A further expression of disgusted shock was given, motioning to the bottle as she did so. "And you're drinking my beer. Did you just miss me so much the past few weeks that you had to come and make my personal life a misery?"
 
 
scruffylies: House pointedly ignored that last question. He made an elaborate show of taking a sip, then held the bottle out to her. "I'm sorry... did you want some?" he said, not sounding sorry in the least. He didn't wait for her answer. "I got thirsty. It was a long wait. But I understand." Leaning back in the chair again, House continued, "You couldn't leave the hospital in disarray while you're gone, right?"
 
 
Negotiatory: Early morning flight, she'd barely packed, and a five-year-old child sitting in her armchair sounding as if he was disappointed his mommy was going on a trip without him. Lifting a hand anxiously, she pressed fingertips into a kneading rub against the back of her neck, fending off a coming headache best as she could. "If you're concerned I won't be back in time for you to torment on your first day, you shouldn't be. House, I've got a hundred things to do before an 8:15 flight tomorrow morning. Can whatever this is wait until I'm back?"
 
 
scruffylies: "Nope. No fun in that." The Nintendo DS beeped impatiently at him, House snapped it shut. "Besides. My first day back isn't for... almost a month. And you're only gonna be gone a week." 
 
Greg had to admit the constant calls from his team and Wilson did serve one purpose; he was kept in the loop. He'd just had to wade through quite a bit of hopeful platitudes to get the information he wanted. And fend off questions about his therapy. He'd told them he'd see them in two months, but they kept asking anyway.
 
 
Negotiatory: "Then what is so important that it can't wait a week and you break into your employer's -- the person who signs your paychecks -- home at 8:30 at night rather than call her cell phone or wait outside like a civilized human being?" She was not going to stand in the entrance of her den and have this conversation with him. If he needed to talk, he was going to have to follow. Turning on a heel and finishing the process of removing her jacket, she headed for her bedroom.
 
 
scruffylies: House watched as she walked away. Speaking mostly to himself, though loud enough that she may have caught at least the first part of it, he said, "You ask a question and then walk away? That says you really don't want an answer."
 
Nonetheless, House dropped the Nintendo machine onto a low table and used that arm to brace himself up out of the chair. He'd been there a long time; he'd had a long therapy session that day. A little stiff, House's first couple of steps made him grit his teeth. But Cuddy couldn't see that, and by the time he'd followed her to the bedroom, his limping walk was as smooth as it was going to get this time of night. Therapy was working.
 
"I think we've established that I have no desire to be a civilized anything," he said, taking another sip from the half-empty beer he'd carried with him to the doorway.
 
 
Negotiatory: "Oh, please, House. I might have been temporarily insane enough to hire you, but I'm not stupid. You aren't going to wait around in my house for god-knows-how-long-you've-been-sitting there and then let me walk away without at least saying or doing whatever it is you came here to say or do."
 
There had been no chance of him not following her, so she'd felt more than comfortable in the act of walking away. By the time he reached her bedroom, she'd already hefted her suitcase up and onto the bedspread and was in the process of transferring a few still-bagged articles of dry-cleaned clothes into it.
 
 
scruffylies: House leaned in the doorway, rolled the bottle between his hands, watched her pack. Fairly large suitcase for one week.
 
"If you were only temporarily insane when you hired me, why didn't you fire me when you regained your sanity?" he asked matter-of-factly.
 
 
Negotiatory: "Glutton for punishment? Charity? I'm secretly in love with you? My answer doesn't matter so stop pretending that's why you came here." They didn't discuss the terms of his employment or personal lives generally; it made their relationship work, and she had no inclination to change that now.
 
Crossing away from the bed, she barely gave him warning with the word 'move' before she pushed the open door closed slightly to grab a pair of running sneakers that had made their way behind there.
 
She also didn't bother to reopen it as she returned to the suitcase, but was positive he would. He had a habit of looking at people as he attempted to dissect them.
 
 
scruffylies: He let the door push into him; when she was done, he pushed it back, resettled himself in the doorframe. Took a gulp of beer. She was right; it didn't really matter why she'd hired him or why she hadn't fired him. Not when there was something more interesting to focus on, like this vacation thing.
 
"Maybe I just came here to help you pack," House suggested, though he was standing there watching her do just that. "After all, it's not everyday the Dean of Medicine takes her first vacation in years."
 
 
Negotiatory: "..Aha." Pausing from her work, Lisa finally lifted her attention fully to him with something of a triumphant smile threatening to falter into place. "That's what this is. You're obsessive-compulsive, found out through your spies that I'm going on vacation and it bugs you that you don't know where I'm going or who I'm going with."
 
It was kind of sad. He needed a puzzle so badly he went out and found one. Someone should just buy him a Rubik’s Cube or one of those 3-D puzzles that takes people four years to complete.
 
 
scruffylies: "My spies...?" House shrugged. "Not my fault that your vacation is gossip fodder for the whole hospital. A particularly interesting version of the story is that you're going to audition for the next installment of the Girls Gone Wild Games. Wilkinson in Accounting thinks they won't pick you, but I've got all of five bucks says he's wrong." To punctuate his statement, he let his eyes drift downward so they rested on her chest, smirked, and then tilted his head back and took a long swallow of the beer.
 
 
Negotiatory: The triumphant smile dwindled as she caught the movement of his gaze and that almost-sickening smirk, expression melting instead into a frown. Shaking her head tentatively in restrained disgust, Cuddy maneuvered herself to her dresser to gather up a week's worth of undergarments. Somehow, she doubted waiting until House left to pack things of a more sensitive nature than her shoes and dry cleaning wouldn't work. She was getting the feeling she was stuck with him. "That would make such an interesting headline for the University paper. 'Teaching Hospital's Dean of Medicine to appear in newest Girls Gone Wild.'"
 
 
scruffylies: "Wouldn't it?" House agreed almost cheerfully. He held the nearly-empty beer bottle loosely by the neck and made a big show of craning his neck -- the scar was healing nicely -- to see the items Cuddy was removing from her dresser. She'd expect it.
 
 
Negotiatory: Yes, she did. In fact, she expected it so much she didn't even blink when she realized that he was craning just to look. Holding up a pair of socks for his evaluation, she dangled them teasingly to demonstrate the fact that it was only a sock drawer and he wasn't exactly looking at the more interesting pieces of her clothing collection. "You're sick, do you know that? And I'm not going to tell you on principle just so you can satisfy a bizarre fetish with knowing everything about everyone." Tossing the socks into her suitcase, she closed the top for now. It was good enough, at least as good as it would get with him standing in her doorway. Turning back to him, she paused in the same space, giving him time to step out of the way (even though it was unlikely. He'd probably make her squeeze between him and the doorframe if she wanted out of her bedroom and back into the hall) while making it obvious she intended on leaving the room.
 
 
scruffylies: House lifted his eyebrows as she paused. Yes, he did consider making her push past him, but in the end he decided to step backwards slowly, infuriatingly slowly through the doorframe, one small step at a time, until she had enough room to get into the hallway. Walking backwards was harder, the toe-heel motion pulling at the muscles, but he was only slow because it made her wait. Cuddy could still squeeze past him, but he was just about out of the way.
 
 
Negotiatory: The just about aspect was enough to keep her aggravatedly following rather than brushing past him, forced into playing his physical power game out of knowledge that as soon as she did try to squeeze past him, he'd just speed up anyway making it pointless to have done it in the first place. "Staring at me and walking really slowly isn't going to get me to change my mind, House." As soon as the hallway opened into a wider area, she sped past him for the kitchen, shaking her head as she moved.
 
 
scruffylies: "And rushing from room to room is just such a fun game," was his only reply, as Greg -- of course -- turned and followed. His limping steps were a little ragged, but he was making sure to carry himself with his usual unconcern.
 
 
Negotiatory: "No," That response was a genuine one and void of the sarcasm or annoyance she'd been using with him previously since returning home to find him there. Slowing to a less rushed and more amiable pace, she half-turned as they entered the kitchen to allow eyes a more cursory glance down him. "But I was sort of testing your leg. The therapy seems to be doing great." A moment, and then she indicated to his left. "The trash is there." There was the possibility that he'd resolutely set his empty bottle elsewhere to irk her, but she was prepared for that as well.
 
 
scruffylies: He tried to tune out the comments on his therapy, but he had to agree. It was working, all right, though he was pushing it to work perhaps a little too eagerly. But her words brought a grin to his face that was genuine, the closest he would get to acknowledging her statement.
 
House drained the dregs of the beer, thought about making a snide comment about New Jersey's recycling laws, but just didn't feel like it. He shrugged and tossed the bottle in the trash, as she'd hinted.
 
 
Negotiatory: Well, explaining to him that the recycling bin was in the garage and that he needed to go through the laundry room to put it in the right spot seemed like a far shot. At least him complying with tossing it into the garbage hinted at the fact that he was at least willing to bend.
 
It also meant he wasn't finished trying to pry information out of her. He wouldn't have listened if he wasn't. Opening her refrigerator and snatching a sealed Tupperware container of last's night dinner, she went to the microwave to warm it up, all the while casting House a sideward glance. "So that's it? You're not going to get an immediate answer out of me, so you're going to follow me around all night?"
 
 
scruffylies: Amused that she hadn't made more than token attempts to get him out the door, House let his grin roll seamlessly into a more customary smirk. He was curious, sure, but her responses to his continued home invasion -- and that first, priceless look -- were almost as good as information.
 
House had had enough of lurking in doorways; he stood in the middle of the kitchen so Cuddy had to move around him. "An immediate answer?" he said after a moment of feigned consideration. "Did I ask a question?"
 
 
Negotiatory: Closing the microwave door and letting it start, she returned to the 'fridge, opened it, considered a beer but eventually decided that, present company taken into account, she'd go for a bottle of water instead and did just that. "Would you rather me believe that you're here because you've missed me?"
 
She knew it wasn't true, but it would at least serve the purpose of getting him to admit there was a question, even if it didn't have to be spoken. She'd pointed it out when she originally deduced why he'd come in the first place.
 
 
scruffylies: "But I have missed you," House tried to get that out without any trace of a smirk, and did pretty well. All right, so it was mostly a lie. He'd been too caught up with the whole, y'know, gunshot thing, and the therapy, to really miss much of anything. Not that he would miss her, or work, or avoiding clinic duty, or any of that stuff. It was complicated, and much easier to go with a partial honesty, that he hadn't missed it, or her, or anything. Eight weeks had been the maximum amount of time he could get off for the wounds, for the physical therapy, and he was milking it for everything it was worth.
 
When he had to go back, he'd deal with it. But, yeah, he was pretty happy to be away. Pretty happy. Mostly happy.
 
 
Negotiatory: Rolling her eyes, Cuddy focused her attention on opening the bottle of water and leaning back into her counter. She could tell he was happy. It was a different House. Sure, he was still obnoxious, invasive, abrasive for the most part, but there was also a lightness to him -- something that seemed to be in his eyes even if it wasn't on his face. A willingness to laugh and an ability to make others laugh.
 
It was a nice change.
 
You really couldn't expect any bettering from House. That was about as happy as he got, at least from Cuddy's experience. "Look, I'm glad to see you're in... relatively good spirits -- for you -- and that your leg isn't hurting. If I actually believed that you missed me in a way that wasn't twisted or derived entirely from a selfish reason, I actually might be touched."
 
But she didn't.
 
 
scruffylies: House didn't make any attempt to have her believe him... after all, when you're selling a lie, it helps if you at least act like it's the truth. And in this case, the truth was some nebulous grey area -- charcoal, even -- and he just didn't care enough to examine it. He merely arched an eyebrow.
 
"So, it's selfish of me to inquire where you're spending your lovely vacation?" Enough dancing around it. She knew it's what he was curious about, he knew that she knew... the circles of knowledge went on and on. Time to cut to the chase.
 
 
Negotiatory: It was about time he manned up to it and dropped the act. All she had to do was act a little sensitive and he went scurrying right to the subject. Now she knew how to make him go home -- she'd just turn on Lifetime for women or some other disgusting television station and he'd be out the door faster than she could have possibly hoped for.
 
"You don't want to know because you care, you want to know because you don't know already. You're obsessive. You'll sit at home and wonder the entire time -- or try to hack into my computer and find out where I flew to -- if I don't tell you." While the idea of him attempting to violate her privacy to find out annoyed her, she did enjoy holding the entire thing over his head. It was ridiculous that such a simple thing would inspire such curiosity from him, but that made it all the more amusing to her.
 
It wouldn't have been a big deal at all if he hadn't made it one.
scruffylies: Actually, the only network that showed Unsolved Mysteries anymore was Lifetime. He'd found that out when he went to TiVo it once. Finally, a use for an otherwise banal channel. Now if only they'd wise up and put The L Word on there, it'd have some backbone.
 
House figured maybe honesty -- or something close to honesty -- might work here. "Okay, look; yes, I'm partly just curious. We both know it. I mean, you," he gestured vaguely, "you're going off on a vacation." He stressed the word. "What's more, you're leaving for an 8:15 flight. In the morning. Don't you even know the meaning of the word vacation?"
 
 
Negotiatory: Opening the microwave as the timer pinged off, she grabbed the container of reheated stir fry, obtained a fork, and maneuvered herself to the island counter in the center of the kitchen. Setting her bowl and water down, she pulled up a stool and situated herself, listening to him all the while.
 
Further restraining herself from rolling her eyes a second time, Cuddy leveled a long look at him. "It's the first time I've left the states on something that wasn't business in years. Why is it so difficult to believe that I might actually want a break?" The question about the time was pointedly ignored. Not everyone stayed up until all hours of the night. 8:15 wasn't really that early of a start.
 
 
scruffylies: House absorbed the 'leaving the states' comment, filing it away as more interesting information. Meaning he could just drop the whole thing and find her passport after she'd returned, checked the stamp.
 
It was Greg's turn to lean back against the counter as he considered her words, transferring his weight onto one leg. Was it so difficult to believe she'd want a break? Minus the fact that she might have a latent fear that the hospital would fall apart in her absence -- now there was a fun idea -- he answered, plainly, with the only thing he really could: "It's not."
 
 
Negotiatory: Yes, well, that fear was present but tempered significantly by the fact that House would not be present during her leave. For the most part, she could trust the other doctors to behave. House was the only one that she had to routinely stick her head in on. Generally, the more quiet he was, the more trouble he was up to.
 
You'd think after all these years that he'd learn telling people to not tell Cuddy, or to not go to Cuddy for something was the biggest red flag of all. It was when people stopped checking in that she got curious (or suspicious, take your pick).
 
Speaking of suspicion... his almost idle answer merited him a taken-aback stare, fork hovering over the stir-fry for an instant of consideration. "That's it? 'It's not.'?"
 
 
scruffylies: House knew full well she was taking her vacation when -- hell, because -- he was on medical leave. She was probably bored without having to chase after him to do clinic duty.
 
He shrugged, seeming to ignore her reaction. House heaved himself away from the counter, started to walk across the kitchen. "Yeah. That's it. It's not hard to believe you want to take a vacation." The idle tone again.
 
 
Negotiatory: Needed one was more like it, but she didn't correct him, instead keeping a cautious eye pinned to him as he crossed the kitchen, as if waiting for the bottom to fall out. He'd waited around for possibly hours to scare her, then follow her around her home until she said she wanted to go on vacation -- not where, not who with; just that she wanted to go?
 
While the waiting around to scare her wasn't entirely beneath him, the majority of what he did was for shock value, but she had to believe that even House had better things to do to wait for hours. There was more, he just wasn't saying it for some reason. "Okay..."
 
Just eat and he'll say it or leave. He certainly wasn't going to stand around and watch her eat and pack all night unless he hoped she'd start giving him information just out of annoyance from his being there.
 
 
scruffylies: No, House was well aware his power of annoyance only went so far. Shock value alone, perhaps, had kept him from being forcibly ejected from her home... though that would've been funny, too, if she'd tried to physically toss him out.
 
For the briefest of moments, House considered just continuing through the kitchen, heading out the door. It would be random, make the whole visit a bit surreal. But he did want to know. For lots of reasons.
 
So he found another stool, dragged it to sit opposite her at the counter island. House leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. "Yeah," he said, almost-smiled. "So, you going somewhere with a nice beach?" He sounded almost... wistful? Certainly relaxed, which was strange enough. 
 
But House was at a point where he knew he'd wind up finding out about the vacation. She wouldn't still be dealing with his presence if she wasn't going to tell him. If she'd really wanted him gone, she could've found a way to make him leave.
 
 
Negotiatory: Watching him draw up the chair and sit across from her in abject disbelief at how ridiculously manipulative he was, Cuddy stared for a full three count. Finally setting the bowl and fork down (she hadn't even touched it yet), dark brows knit and she leaned forward. "If I tell you where I'm going, will you leave? Walk right out the door and not talk to me until you report to work in a month?"
 
 
scruffylies: House closed his eyes, left his expression blank. "Mmmm..." he drew after a long moment, as if really considering her questions. 
 
Finally... "No, probably not. If, however, you give me all the details... and let me off the first couple of weeks of clinic duty when I get back -- considering, y'know, it's pretty obvious that the clinic is doing just fine in my regrettable absence -- then, y'know..." He opened his eyes again, met her gaze. "I'll get lost."
 
Negotiatory: "Ha." Mirthless as the laugh was, it was all that was needed to verbally convey the fat-chance that was readable on her countenance. Cuddy would just pull out the bigguns and find the most agonizingly female thing to do until he got bored, disgusted, or both and left. She'd shave her legs if he wouldn't most likely find that interesting. No, better to see what was on television.
 
Grabbing up her dinner things, she slid off the stool and made a b-line for the den. "You know even if you follow me until tomorrow morning, you're not going to be able to get past security and find out what flight I'm on?"
 
 
scruffylies: Well, no, he hadn't thought that would work, but bringing clinic hours into everything was expected of him. House closed his eyes again as she started for the den; he didn't get up to follow. Though if she thought television would make him leave, she was mistaken. House watched just about everything. Granted, he didn't like all kinds of television. But he'd watch it.
 
He answered her question as she walked out: "But I don't want to know what flight you're on. Just, y'know, where you're going, with whom you're traveling. And, don't forget, if there will be a good beach there." Not that Jersey didn't have a great shoreline. But c'mon.
 
 
Negotiatory: "I can't believe you're here wasting your evening when you could be at a monster truck rally or burning ant hills or whatever it is you do on your free time." He wasn't getting the information, and that was that. Now it was just a matter of principle. He might have been juvenile and stubborn, but she could be just as bull-headed when she wanted to be.
 
Dropping onto her couch, Cuddy pulled legs up and under her into a tuck, leaning into the back absently as she set aside her dinner in favor of the remote. Switching to the guide station, she began thumbing through to find something notably horrific.
 
 
scruffylies: Ugh. That tone. So much for more information. House left his eyes closed for a moment and silently groaned. Well, it hadn't been a total waste, he reflected, remembering her expression when he'd looked up from the DS game. That was worthwhile, indeed.
 
House dragged himself to his feet, considered stealing another beer, but in the end just wandered out into the den. He took the stylus from behind his ear and dropped it next to the Nintendo DS he'd left on the table, and slumped back into the chair he'd been occupying when Cuddy walked in. "Too dark to burn ant hills," was all he offered.
 
 
Negotiatory: Aha. Barely managing to restrain the triumph when practiced eyes honed in on something of interest, she immediately keyed in the channel so that TBS's syndicated episode of Dawson's Creek came on. A small deviation of her eyes was risked to House, attempting to register his response once he realized what it was without really appearing to look at him. "Oh, so that's why you resort to breaking and entering. Have to have something to do to pass the evening hours?"
 
 
scruffylies: House stretched out in the chair. Pretty comfortable. Cuddy's taste wasn't half bad. Then he saw what show she'd tuned into. Ignoring her question, he piped up with, "Is this the one where Dawson and Joey kiss? Ridiculous, really, because you know she's just going to end up with Pacey." He managed to keep the smirk off his face.
 
 
Negotiatory: Blanching in shock (who the hell were Pacey and Joey?) as he seemed to rattle off details about the show, the hand holding the remote sank slightly as if she was severely considering giving up. A long-suffering shake of her head was offered, borderline exasperation, thumbing down another two channels to the Disney Channel. "I really don't want to know how you know that." Sleeping Beauty. Well, that was insufferably disgusting at least. If he actually wanted to watch that, she wouldn't know what to do.
 
 
scruffylies: He shrugged in response. Heh, so she'd only put it on to irritate him. He had no idea who Joey really ended up with, and he didn't care. Only knew Joey was a girl from some clinic patient who talked nonstop about it on her cell phone while House tried to examine her -- but he'd made a pretty good guess as to the show's typical content and threw it out like he knew exactly what was going to happen.
 
But this... this was harder. Sleeping Beauty? House knew Cuddy probably hated it as much as he did. House cracked his neck, turned his bright blue eyes on her. "This is some sadly unoriginal code for, 'Get the hell out of here, House.'"
 
 
Negotiatory: A knowing smirk was all she'd offer in response, neither admitting nor denying even if it was blatantly obvious she had no intention of keeping the movie on after he was out the door with it bolted shut behind him. If she had to watch the entire remaining torturous hour because he was stubborn, she would, and then most likely go out of her way to mention to Wilson and House's employees about them watching the movie together.
 
Women could be evil creatures; House was out of his league when push came to shove.
 
"...I'll see you in a month, House."
 
 
scruffylies: Greg grinned. He actually grinned as he pushed himself out of the chair. There had been absolutely no chance that he'd stick around for Sleeping Beauty. There were some things on television that even House wouldn't watch. It had been a good play on Cuddy's part. Very nice.
 
The smile reached his eyes. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Yeah," he nodded, started out of the den without his game.
 
 
Negotiatory: She didn't even have to glance up fully to realize he was walking past the spot he'd dropped his game, so without missing a beat in feigning interest in the movie (she had her eyes locked onto it, even if she was attempting to tune out the overly-happy music and words coming from the television set), she pointed it out verbally. "Take your game with you. I don't want to see you until you're back at work. I'll call you if we get a particularly interesting case, otherwise go home."
 
 
scruffylies: House kept walking. He replied, making it louder as he got further away, "Nah, you take it on your mystery trip. I might lose a fiver if you're rejected from Girls Gone Wild, but there's a pool going where people are taking bets that you'll cut your vacation short and come running back because you miss micromanaging everyone. I've got a hundred says you won't, so if you miss the hospital... breathe into a paper bag, drink a pina colada or whatever sissy drink you prefer, and play Trauma Centre. Who knows, maybe it'll help you be a real doctor like the rest of us." It was the closest he'd come to telling her to have a good time. The front door closed, opened again. "Just don't go and lose the damn thing in Customs or something. I want it back in a month!" And the door slammed shut as House finally left.
 
 
Negotiatory: Frowning after him, even though the door was now closed, Lisa held still for several instances as if debating as to the safety in the silence that was resonating from the front door. Was he really gone? Cautiously sitting up, she peered 'round the hallway corner to get a better look (as if he'd only pretended to shut the door and was actually just standing there) and when she saw no one, shifted into a rise from her seat. Crossing over, she picked up the gameboy skeptically, turning it over in her hand once before exchanging a weighty glance between it and the television.
 
Inevitably, she sat down and turned the game on.
Tags: cuddy, house, prequel
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