(no subject)
He’s supposed to be in the clinic. He’s not in the clinic-quel surprise--but there are clues. A pile of finished case files, the sign-in log, where House has signed in but not out, the candy jar denuded of red lollipops, and--most of all-the abandoned portable TV; taken together, these things are highly suggestive.
“Did you happen to see which way he went?” Wilson asks Brenda.
She jerks her thumb toward the elevators.
“Thanks.” He snags an empty elevator and takes it straight to the top.
Well, some people get on a few floors later, but he’d have taken it straight to the top if it had been possible.
As he expected, House is on the roof. He’s sitting on a lawn chair someone dragged up there, crunching meditatively through his stash of red lollipops. He waves one slightly in greeting when Wilson comes out.
Wilson ignores it. “You told my parents I have cancer.”
“You do have cancer,” House points out.
“That’s not the point!”
“Right. The point is that you didn’t want them to know.”
“Right,” Wilson snaps. “I didn’t.”
“Uh-huh. Why?”
He rubs his forehead. “They’d worry. I didn’t want to upset them.”
“You didn’t think it was more important that they be able to provide you with emotional support in this difficult time?” House asks, mock-serious.
“No,” Wilson says, stubbornly.
House’s jaw stops crunching as he looks up at Wilson. After a long moment he fishes another lollipop-the last one-out of his shirt pocket, and offers it to him. “Sucker?”