Day 33: Doctor's Office 2 (Dr. House)
Yesterday's therapy sessions hadn't been especially long, which would have been a good thing if House hadn't been putting his mind to his patients' problems for once. It wasn't that the two men from yesterday had gotten to him (because their general logic and methods of explaining it had been about as flawed as Cuddy's last date) but more that his own apathy was catching up to him. This place was an intellectual hell for him because there was nothing to do, nothing to diagnose, and maybe that was the whole puzzle. Not even rich crazies could be so relatively healthy in such number, and it was even less likely that they were all suffering from the same delusion.
He'd gone over this in his head already and hadn't gotten anywhere with it, even after scouring the patient files for some common denominator and the hospital files for some possible practitioner of modern mad science. House widened his eyes to wake himself up and leaned forward towards his desk, opening a drawer and grabbing for his vicodin.
He felt like his mind was moving slower than usual, that the pain in his leg came with more frequent intensity as of late. He could have blamed the vicodin for at least the mental issues, but he wasn't the kind to betray his trust in his drug just because of a bad day. Hell, maybe his mind was just moving slower because he'd been so damn bored. Crosswords and endless Bejeweled were about the closest he'd gotten to good entertainment since he'd gotten here.
That and spiking Wilson's coffee last week.
He'd gone over this in his head already and hadn't gotten anywhere with it, even after scouring the patient files for some common denominator and the hospital files for some possible practitioner of modern mad science. House widened his eyes to wake himself up and leaned forward towards his desk, opening a drawer and grabbing for his vicodin.
He felt like his mind was moving slower than usual, that the pain in his leg came with more frequent intensity as of late. He could have blamed the vicodin for at least the mental issues, but he wasn't the kind to betray his trust in his drug just because of a bad day. Hell, maybe his mind was just moving slower because he'd been so damn bored. Crosswords and endless Bejeweled were about the closest he'd gotten to good entertainment since he'd gotten here.
That and spiking Wilson's coffee last week.