[Complete] House Interviews for Ducklings
Location: 221A Baker Street, a.k.a. Dr. House and Wilson's Medical Office
Time: Mid Afternoon
Characters: Winifred Burkle, Gregory House, Neil Perry, Robert Chase, Simon Tam
Public, Private, or Semi-Private: Semi-Private
Incomplete or Complete: complete
Rating: PG
Summary: Fred stops by for a job. House gives her hell. Neil pops in. [Note: Fred and I RPGed the first half of this over MSN] Then Chase pops in. Then Simon pops in. Everyone wants a job.
Fred walks into 221A Baker Street looking for anyone to ask about a job. "Hello?" she calls echoes. "Is anyone there?"
She tiptoed around. She felt weird about coming into anywhere when the door was left open. Maybe it was just her days in LA, but she felt wary. "Hello??" she repeated, louder
Oh, Shit. House heard a female voice echoing through library waiting area. He sat in his office, rearranging Jimmy's desk so he would know the location of anything upon his arrival (a little 'welcome home, you bastard' present). Hiding in the storage seemed childish, though completely plausible. He had his game boy, a new addition of the New England Journal of Medicine, and a fully charged IPod: a golden recipe for at least an hour or two of hiding. Just like old times except he bet the female's breasts weren't HALF as glorious as Cuddy's. Damn, he missed those breasts.
Did Neil allow her in? If he did, that boy needed a talking to. Rule number one of living at 221 Baker Street: ignore the outside world.
Fred was rather confused. She was told to come by and that the door would be left open, which it was. However, she couldn't find anyone. She was completely at a loss as to what to do. She looked around seeing that she was the only person there. She wondered if she should go back out and come in again. That was a great idea. Fred stepped back outside and waited a minute.
House heard the door open and close again, then silence. Excellent, it wasn't an annoying patient. House left his office bound for his pushchair that went from the corner in his office to the corner in his "waiting room.” He flicked on honky-tonk mix and opened the journal.
Fred took a deep breath, vowing to find SOMEONE when she went back in. She opened the door again and she sees a man sitting down. "Hi, I'm Fred. I was wondering if..." she stopped suddenly. What if this man sitting down wasn't in charge, but rather was waiting for the doctor to come back. "I was wondering if you were the person in charge here. I was told to stop by," she blurted out. Great, she thought: look like a freak in front of, at best a neighbor, and at worst her possibly future boss.
Told to stop by, he never told anyone to stop by? The girl looked about five years too old for Neil. However, if the kid wanted to go through his Mrs. Robinson Phase, he fully supported it. He'd go out and buy the condom. But Neil hadn't socialized with anyone else, so that couldn't be it.
Did Wilson send her? She wasn't his Type. House liked curvy ones that didn't talk. "Fred" was pencil thin and clearly a talker. Her voice, perky and sharp, just screamed "I spew and don't shut up.” So, she' not Neil's and she's not Wilson's.
Oh, Crap. Now he reminded. He carelessly replied to one of the journals on the residents’ community telling them to stop by. This must be the journal. Great. House thought. Just great.
"There person in charge is gone for the month, darling,” That’s the truth. Wilson insisted on starting up a practice; therefore, Wilson was in charge. House just was in charge of Wilson. And Wilson indeed would not return anytime soon.
Fred frowned. She had the worst luck of anyone ever. Ever since she had gotten sucked into Pylea, bad luck seemed to trail her. A whole month of doing nothing might kill her work ethic. "Is there anyway I can leave a message for him or her? I was hoping to apply for a job, and I'd like to get his or her my contact information and resume and whatever else is needed as soon as possible," she explained. "It's just that I'm new in town and I wanted to get into a routine is all." Fred had a habit of blurting out information that was completely unnecessary or inappropriate. She turned red when she realized she'd practically given this guy, who she didn't know, her life story.
"I was just asking because you seem to erm, know what you're talking about."
"Contact him? Not possible. I've been trying to contact him all week." She has an air of Cameron to her, even though both appeared and acted completely different. But that sickening need to be nice House sense from 'Fred' reminded him too much of Cameron.
On the other hand, Cameron answered his mail and did his clinic duty. Someone like that House would kill for again. "How I do know what I'm talking about. Take a sit, and tell me your medical background -- in twenty words or less." House hated ramblers.
Twenty words or less. That was possibly the worst thing anyone could ever have said. Fred had a tendency to prattle on and she knew it. She chose her words carefully and counted them as she said them. "I'm a physicist firstly." she started. That was four. Her medical background. She had more background in science in general than medicine. "I have lots of science background. I used to work at Wolfram and Hart, in the science department. I was head of it." Damn, that was slightly over twenty words, but she hoped that he hadn't counted. Or wouldn't hire her merely because she'd exceeded the word limit by seven words. Twenty-seven was by far the best she'd done.
"Um, excuse my asking, if you're not in charge, who ARE you?”
"You went eight words over the quota, Fred." House nodded, "An archaist. I like archaists, just not ones who attempt usurping me. How can I know if the Boss hires you, you won't throw a coup d'état?"
"I'm not a coup d'etat kinda gal. Who are you?"
"I'm the Man behind the Man." House said, "Gregory House."
"Um..," Fred wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. "I suppose it's nice to meet you Mr. House?" She bit her lip. "If you're not in charge what exactly do you do?" She felt she was being a bit too forward for her nature, but decided it was best to be forward.
"It's Dr. House, and I do nothing. I sit here and consult Dr. Wilson on his glorious but in adept attempts to treat patients. With Dr. Wilson's absence, I'm not looking for someone to fill in for the month. When he returns, we'll renegotiate."
Fred was stunned into silence. She supposed she'd have to get used to the frankness, not that she hadn't been exposed to such frankness before in such a manner. "Sorry Doctor House. If you need anything or want to 'renegotiate', here's my number." She handed him a card with her cell phone, as she hadn't yet installed a home phone. "My address is on the back, 147 Candle Maker Street."
"Whoa, Whoa," House said, breaking into a smile. He tossed the card aside. "We're not done here. This is the part where you get morally outraged at me, snark, and show some backbone. It's just part of the interview process."
He wanted someone spunky, someone that he could fight with and keep him on his toes. House wanted his peace, no doubt. But to achieve that he needed to socialize with some -- this woman for starts. But he had standards. He socialized with Wilson, because, well, It Is Wilson. Now he "adopted" Neil, because he looked -- and sometimes -- acted like Wilson. Since Fred had neither a penis nor bushy eyebrows, House needed to bank on Wilson's other golden quality: his ability to keep up.
Morally outraged. She wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to be outraged at, but if he wanted outrage...he seemed to be bored out of his mind in this small town. Fred, being from a small town was adjusting reasonably. She decided she'd play along. It wasn't as if she had anything better to do. "I'm not quite outraged," she started, "however, you have been really rude. Why would you be so discourteous to someone you just met? Someone who you clearly don't know anything about?" She sighed. This all seemed to be a type of test. With hoops and all. Fred was not exactly in the mood for hoops to jump through. "What exactly do you want me to say? To do?"
"I want you to react," House said. He enjoyed studying people, no more, no less. Reactions told more than words. "So, just go with. Because if you're going to work here, or you want to work here, you must understand I don't care."
"You don't care? What exactly don't you care about?” Fred questioned. She looked at him curiously. He was certainly unlike anyone she'd ever met before.
"I don't care about caring." House pointed at her with his eyes, telling her to sit back down. "What don't you care about, Fred?"
"What don't I care about?"
Fred, not being too willing to take orders, but tiring of standing, took a seat. What doesn't she care about. That was hard. Because Fred cared about a lot of things. Fred cared about all her friends, all her grades throughout high school and college. What didn't she care about. She didn't exactly care about fitting in... In a sense she did. She liked to have friends and know people, but she didn't care about fitting in like everyone else seemed to.
"I don't care about fitting in," she said, wondering why she was being so candid with someone she'd just met.
"Really now?"
"Um, yes," she said in a way that seemed as if she were questioning herself.
"Then why are you here trying to impress me? If you truly didn't care, you would've walked out."
"Um, fitting in is different that impressing people. I don't care to fit in like everyone else, but..." Fred was stuck. "Okay, I suppose I do care." She frowned.
"Then why didn't you just admit it? Do you need this job? Will you die without t? Or is it something else?" House paused, one of his great pauses. "We don't do much science here. I like scientific people, that's why I hate patients. But are you a doctor or a scientist?"
"I'm a scientist"
"And what do you know of medicine?"
"In what sense? Do I know what it is, do I know how to practice, do I know about it?"
"Good answer." House said, very pleased. "Very good answer." He didn't respond, but he didn't feel the need. "All right, Fred. I think we have a place for you here."
Time: Mid Afternoon
Characters: Winifred Burkle, Gregory House, Neil Perry, Robert Chase, Simon Tam
Public, Private, or Semi-Private: Semi-Private
Incomplete or Complete: complete
Rating: PG
Summary: Fred stops by for a job. House gives her hell. Neil pops in. [Note: Fred and I RPGed the first half of this over MSN] Then Chase pops in. Then Simon pops in. Everyone wants a job.
Fred walks into 221A Baker Street looking for anyone to ask about a job. "Hello?" she calls echoes. "Is anyone there?"
She tiptoed around. She felt weird about coming into anywhere when the door was left open. Maybe it was just her days in LA, but she felt wary. "Hello??" she repeated, louder
Oh, Shit. House heard a female voice echoing through library waiting area. He sat in his office, rearranging Jimmy's desk so he would know the location of anything upon his arrival (a little 'welcome home, you bastard' present). Hiding in the storage seemed childish, though completely plausible. He had his game boy, a new addition of the New England Journal of Medicine, and a fully charged IPod: a golden recipe for at least an hour or two of hiding. Just like old times except he bet the female's breasts weren't HALF as glorious as Cuddy's. Damn, he missed those breasts.
Did Neil allow her in? If he did, that boy needed a talking to. Rule number one of living at 221 Baker Street: ignore the outside world.
Fred was rather confused. She was told to come by and that the door would be left open, which it was. However, she couldn't find anyone. She was completely at a loss as to what to do. She looked around seeing that she was the only person there. She wondered if she should go back out and come in again. That was a great idea. Fred stepped back outside and waited a minute.
House heard the door open and close again, then silence. Excellent, it wasn't an annoying patient. House left his office bound for his pushchair that went from the corner in his office to the corner in his "waiting room.” He flicked on honky-tonk mix and opened the journal.
Fred took a deep breath, vowing to find SOMEONE when she went back in. She opened the door again and she sees a man sitting down. "Hi, I'm Fred. I was wondering if..." she stopped suddenly. What if this man sitting down wasn't in charge, but rather was waiting for the doctor to come back. "I was wondering if you were the person in charge here. I was told to stop by," she blurted out. Great, she thought: look like a freak in front of, at best a neighbor, and at worst her possibly future boss.
Told to stop by, he never told anyone to stop by? The girl looked about five years too old for Neil. However, if the kid wanted to go through his Mrs. Robinson Phase, he fully supported it. He'd go out and buy the condom. But Neil hadn't socialized with anyone else, so that couldn't be it.
Did Wilson send her? She wasn't his Type. House liked curvy ones that didn't talk. "Fred" was pencil thin and clearly a talker. Her voice, perky and sharp, just screamed "I spew and don't shut up.” So, she' not Neil's and she's not Wilson's.
Oh, Crap. Now he reminded. He carelessly replied to one of the journals on the residents’ community telling them to stop by. This must be the journal. Great. House thought. Just great.
"There person in charge is gone for the month, darling,” That’s the truth. Wilson insisted on starting up a practice; therefore, Wilson was in charge. House just was in charge of Wilson. And Wilson indeed would not return anytime soon.
Fred frowned. She had the worst luck of anyone ever. Ever since she had gotten sucked into Pylea, bad luck seemed to trail her. A whole month of doing nothing might kill her work ethic. "Is there anyway I can leave a message for him or her? I was hoping to apply for a job, and I'd like to get his or her my contact information and resume and whatever else is needed as soon as possible," she explained. "It's just that I'm new in town and I wanted to get into a routine is all." Fred had a habit of blurting out information that was completely unnecessary or inappropriate. She turned red when she realized she'd practically given this guy, who she didn't know, her life story.
"I was just asking because you seem to erm, know what you're talking about."
"Contact him? Not possible. I've been trying to contact him all week." She has an air of Cameron to her, even though both appeared and acted completely different. But that sickening need to be nice House sense from 'Fred' reminded him too much of Cameron.
On the other hand, Cameron answered his mail and did his clinic duty. Someone like that House would kill for again. "How I do know what I'm talking about. Take a sit, and tell me your medical background -- in twenty words or less." House hated ramblers.
Twenty words or less. That was possibly the worst thing anyone could ever have said. Fred had a tendency to prattle on and she knew it. She chose her words carefully and counted them as she said them. "I'm a physicist firstly." she started. That was four. Her medical background. She had more background in science in general than medicine. "I have lots of science background. I used to work at Wolfram and Hart, in the science department. I was head of it." Damn, that was slightly over twenty words, but she hoped that he hadn't counted. Or wouldn't hire her merely because she'd exceeded the word limit by seven words. Twenty-seven was by far the best she'd done.
"Um, excuse my asking, if you're not in charge, who ARE you?”
"You went eight words over the quota, Fred." House nodded, "An archaist. I like archaists, just not ones who attempt usurping me. How can I know if the Boss hires you, you won't throw a coup d'état?"
"I'm not a coup d'etat kinda gal. Who are you?"
"I'm the Man behind the Man." House said, "Gregory House."
"Um..," Fred wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. "I suppose it's nice to meet you Mr. House?" She bit her lip. "If you're not in charge what exactly do you do?" She felt she was being a bit too forward for her nature, but decided it was best to be forward.
"It's Dr. House, and I do nothing. I sit here and consult Dr. Wilson on his glorious but in adept attempts to treat patients. With Dr. Wilson's absence, I'm not looking for someone to fill in for the month. When he returns, we'll renegotiate."
Fred was stunned into silence. She supposed she'd have to get used to the frankness, not that she hadn't been exposed to such frankness before in such a manner. "Sorry Doctor House. If you need anything or want to 'renegotiate', here's my number." She handed him a card with her cell phone, as she hadn't yet installed a home phone. "My address is on the back, 147 Candle Maker Street."
"Whoa, Whoa," House said, breaking into a smile. He tossed the card aside. "We're not done here. This is the part where you get morally outraged at me, snark, and show some backbone. It's just part of the interview process."
He wanted someone spunky, someone that he could fight with and keep him on his toes. House wanted his peace, no doubt. But to achieve that he needed to socialize with some -- this woman for starts. But he had standards. He socialized with Wilson, because, well, It Is Wilson. Now he "adopted" Neil, because he looked -- and sometimes -- acted like Wilson. Since Fred had neither a penis nor bushy eyebrows, House needed to bank on Wilson's other golden quality: his ability to keep up.
Morally outraged. She wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to be outraged at, but if he wanted outrage...he seemed to be bored out of his mind in this small town. Fred, being from a small town was adjusting reasonably. She decided she'd play along. It wasn't as if she had anything better to do. "I'm not quite outraged," she started, "however, you have been really rude. Why would you be so discourteous to someone you just met? Someone who you clearly don't know anything about?" She sighed. This all seemed to be a type of test. With hoops and all. Fred was not exactly in the mood for hoops to jump through. "What exactly do you want me to say? To do?"
"I want you to react," House said. He enjoyed studying people, no more, no less. Reactions told more than words. "So, just go with. Because if you're going to work here, or you want to work here, you must understand I don't care."
"You don't care? What exactly don't you care about?” Fred questioned. She looked at him curiously. He was certainly unlike anyone she'd ever met before.
"I don't care about caring." House pointed at her with his eyes, telling her to sit back down. "What don't you care about, Fred?"
"What don't I care about?"
Fred, not being too willing to take orders, but tiring of standing, took a seat. What doesn't she care about. That was hard. Because Fred cared about a lot of things. Fred cared about all her friends, all her grades throughout high school and college. What didn't she care about. She didn't exactly care about fitting in... In a sense she did. She liked to have friends and know people, but she didn't care about fitting in like everyone else seemed to.
"I don't care about fitting in," she said, wondering why she was being so candid with someone she'd just met.
"Really now?"
"Um, yes," she said in a way that seemed as if she were questioning herself.
"Then why are you here trying to impress me? If you truly didn't care, you would've walked out."
"Um, fitting in is different that impressing people. I don't care to fit in like everyone else, but..." Fred was stuck. "Okay, I suppose I do care." She frowned.
"Then why didn't you just admit it? Do you need this job? Will you die without t? Or is it something else?" House paused, one of his great pauses. "We don't do much science here. I like scientific people, that's why I hate patients. But are you a doctor or a scientist?"
"I'm a scientist"
"And what do you know of medicine?"
"In what sense? Do I know what it is, do I know how to practice, do I know about it?"
"Good answer." House said, very pleased. "Very good answer." He didn't respond, but he didn't feel the need. "All right, Fred. I think we have a place for you here."