House was tired, and it wasn't just because of his leg or the side-effects of near-recreational drug use. He was getting bored of getting bogged down in the paranoia of all these crazies when he was trying to get something out of them. Sure, crying "monster!" without any perceivable reason was fun to watch and diagnose, but it wasn't even a
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Comments 12
"Afternoon, Doctor. May I be so bold as to ask a question? As I'm sure you know, the two types of people that others lie to most are doctors and lawyers. Have you found that to be the case here?"
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He rummaged through his desk with his still-ungloved hand.
"That said, the only people who lie more than doctors are lawyers, so who knows?" He cocked his head up, wearing a dramatic expression. "Maybe I'm lying... right now!!!"
He recognized the man as the diva from the week before; so, they didn't give House a completely new batch of patients every week. He'd been starting to wonder if they really did take out a bunch every day and shoot 'em out in the yard; the turnover rate here would make any sane administrator piss himself.
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He couldn't help being just a little nervous. "Actually. Wait a minute before you answer that. I'd like you to check something." He pointed to his right shoulder. "Go on. Check it. And then tell me how the injury happened, in your opinion."
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"Well, I don't need a medical degree to tell me that you're about to whine about getting it from some fantastical, violent encounter." He began getting up without his cane, instead wincing slightly as he limped towards where the patient sat. He glared at him. "And I'm drawing blood, by the way, not drugging you up, so unless you're a recovering heroin addict..."
He gestured with his hand for the guy to lay his good arm out.
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"You know..." he drawled out as he began to lean out over the desk. He rested his elbows on the top of it, scrunching one eye closed before looking back up to the patient.
"You're absolutely right." He grabbed a piece of paper off the desk and began scribbling on it with a ballpoint pen.
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