The good thing about self-righteous patients was that they usual didn't stick around in House's office for long. Same went for the rest of the people at this damn place, all of them boring and all of them unworthy of House's time. The diagnostician wanted to head back to their crappy temporary living quarters in town, but Wilson was his ride and
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This guy was beginning to sound an awful lot like Greed. Annoying as hell, but he could at least play this game. He generally fared pretty well with a biting and excessively crude spice of sarcasm.
"All the time? I walked in here a few minutes ago and unless you've been keeping vigilant watch on me, which you seem far too lazy to do, you have no idea whether I've been whining at all till now," He crossed his legs, eyeing the unenthused doctor with a sardonic sneer, speaking in that well practiced understated tone of dry humor he was so good at employing with this body and voice, "As it so happens, when I must, I've been playing along with all your whims pretty damn skippy. So damn skippy, in fact, I totally just fistfucked my nurse in the janitor's closet out of sheer gratitude for her sincere efforts to cure my mental illness! If only I'd have known I should have been saving all that effort for you, though!" He batted his eyelashes to illustrate how excessively well he was behaving.
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"My point is proven." He glanced over the top of the magazine and then back again. "Whiny."
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