“Awww, poor baby.” She made a pouty face.
“I know at least one way you could console me,” he said.
“Dream on, House.”
House smirked. Even her rejections felt like come-ons to him tonight.
An old song came on the juke box-“At Last” by Etta James. House wished briefly that this was the kind of bar people danced in-and, for
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