Day 20: Dr. House's Office [Doctor's Office 2]

[damned_doctors]

The door was unlocked, but the sign hanging on the front of it read "The Doctor is OUT," as if the person inside was banking on the disgusting timidity of humans to keep his peace and quiet. Of course, "peace" and "quiet" were relative terms; cheesy music and badly-delivered dialogue came out strong from the small television that sat on the edge of

Comments

[offduty]

The entire thing was getting to be just so damned absurd that Reno felt almost amusedly compelled to play along. It was either that, or strangle someone.

Because. Whatthefuck. Therapy? Therapy? These people weren't the first to suggest he needed it, but they were definitely the first to put their advice into action.

It sure as shit better not be Hojo in there or something.

It wasn't. But the doctor also wasn't the stereotypical therapist type, with their irritating smiles and condescending nods. Instead, there sat a man, eyes fixed to some sort of crap television show (at least they weren't Chocobo races), playing with a very large ball. Talking to himself.

This guy looked like he needed the therapy more.

Reno flopped down on the closest available seat and immediately slid into his usual slouch. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, already bored.

"So. Tell me what sort of role I'm supposed to play so I can get the hell out of here ASAP."

[damned_doctors]

"Hey." House growled out in a strange sort of whine, shooting the red-head patient an irritated glare. "Can't you see I'm trying to watch something, here?"

He looked back to the screen, now using one hand to throw the tennis ball against the floor and catch it when it bounced up again. The obnoxious blare of commercials came on, and the doctor focused his attention fully on the inane activity.

"Of course, you don't seem to want to waste my time, so how about I don't waste yours." He glanced towards the patient with a small smirk. "You can tell them I got touchy-feely and I'll tell them you got weepy-weepy. Deal?"

[offduty]

Okay. So therapy was going a little better than he thought it would. At least his doctor wasn't oozing of false sympathy.

Reno returned the smirk. "Sounds good. 'Course, you don't mind if I ask you a few things, yeah? Promise, it'll suck up less of your time than if I did get weepy-weepy and tried to convince you I live in a world where we ride on birds. And trust me, I'll have just as much fun doing that."

[damned_doctors]

"Actually," House scrunched up his face as he looked towards the ceiling, "I do mind. I mean--" he looked back to the red-head with a shrug as he shifted in his chair "--I'm the one who's supposed to asking stupid questions. But more importantly..."

The commercials died back down into cheesy music, and House leaned forward to turn up the volume on his television. He gestured towards the screen as he leaned back, giving the patient something of an affronted expression.

"...dude. The man is watching a show?"

[offduty]

God. Was this guy getting paid to sit around and watch TV?

Reno was about to snap something back, when the increasing volume caught his attention.

Unless there was some sort of universal sattelite dish...television shows usually took place on at least the same world. Right?

He pointed at the screen. "Tell me where that's happening. Location...planet-wise. Whatever. And then I'm outta here. Okay?"

[damned_doctors]

"You didn't get the memo?" House asked absentmindedly, still looking at the screen as he grabbed for his bag of chips and began rummaging in it with one hand. "We're actually the only two remaining survivors of a giant planetary evacuation. The year is 2057, and we're on a small colony on the surface of Mars..."

He rolled his eyes and gave the patient an incredulous look.

"It's just General Hospital." He looked back to the screen. "Port Charles, New York, 2006, though if this really were 2057, we'd probably still be watching it."

[offduty]

...New York?

Nope. Not a name he was familiar with. Was it a town? City? City in where?

Oh, to hell with it. This roundabout way of obtaining information was too much trouble. He never had the patience for it, anyway.

Reno got up and wandered over to the desk. He folded his arms and leaned them on top of the television, resting most of his weight there.

"I lied, I'm not leaving after all." One hand dropped down and shut off the television. The retarded script was pissing him off. "I want to know exactly where the hell I am and why I'm here. What do you want?"