Prelude, Op. 10, No. 6, in B minor

[rubicks_complex]

The last thing House really expected to discover when he entered the bar was a piano sitting in the corner. He was in between waiting for his next dose of Oxycontin from Cuddy, he was bored, he was in pain, he was aggravated from pretty much everything, he wanted a drink. Or two. Maybe three. Or, hey, maybe even four. Enough drink to take the edge

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[takingcareof]

River walked into the dining hall, boots on for once, intent upon some more of the food. She wondered if there would be those cheesy - what had Dean called them? Potatoes? - again; they'd been quite good. Protein pastes were satisfying in the purely gustatory, elemental sense, but she remembered Simon explaining that food could be pleasurable in itself, like touching or dancing.

She walked toward the tables of food, noting to her delight that there was a plate of mashed potatoes, with a generous helping of orange shavings on top that she assumed was cheese. So far, the hotel's offers of material things had not been malevolent - key words so far - and so River took a chance, figuring the odds were in her favour.

She sat down to eat, but only a few bites had made their way down her gullet when she heard a plinking of keys. A pianoforte? She'd heard piano music before, on holovids. The sound up close and personal was jarring, or at least it was until a melody started to unwind from its innards

[rubicks_complex]

House started playing with more rubato the more lost in the music he became. His eyes were still closed, his face was mirroring the expression he was putting into the music and

[takingcareof]

His voice was flat, as if he wasn't used to using it. "Because of its beauty," River answered, as if such a thing was self-evident. She kept looking at the hammers and the strings, fingers clasping the wood tighter each time the hammer struck. "Someone with less skill, it would keep its melodies. Only give out clunks, like an old engine. You tease it into a giving mood."

He was looking at her now, and she took the time to look back. A weariness in the eyes. She imagined even when he smiled, his eyes never lost their weight. It was strange, yet not wholly unfamiliar. His posture was lazy, but she doubted anything was fundamentally wrong with his body. At least that part of it - River noticed the cracked varnish on the length of wood propped on the piano bench beside him, but didn't say anything about it.

[rubicks_complex]

House cocked his head to the side, the expression of puzzlement on his face growing all the more puzzled. She had a very strange way of talking, as though she spoke using words of association.

That she was referring to the piano having 'moods' and evidently having feelings if her comment about the piano trusting him was anything to go by, made him wonder why she'd associate an inanimate object with having feelings. It almost seemed like she was somehow detached from the idea of emotions, simply because it wasn't the normal thing to do for a grown person to associate feelings and thoughts with inanimate objects.

"The piano gives music because I tell it to," House replied. "With my fingers."

He played a chord, followed by a C major scale, and looked back to the woman. "See? A piano doesn't have thoughts or feelings. Not like you or me."

[takingcareof]

River wasn't deterred. "Humans make noise when they're touched." She poked one small finger against the bulk of his shoulder, noting the very faint intake of breath he gave - surprise? Dislike? She couldn't tell at the moment; he was too new to her. She shrugged, looking down. "Sometimes it's even beautiful, too."

[rubicks_complex]

House looked surprised when she poked him, looked down to his shoulder where her finger had just touched him, then back up to her face. He was suddenly no longer puzzled but fascinated. Really, he'd been craving for something to puzzle over for a long while -- something to make his mind work, to keep it active. This woman... or girl... or whatever she was... was, so far, the most fascinating thing he'd come across in a long while.

Not that the Hotel wasn't fascinating -- though, it was more of a nemesis than anything else, a power that House couldn't overcome or work out or negotiate with. A person like this, however...

"But I make sound without being touched, too," he replied. "So do you." He dropped his hands from the keys to his lap. "A piano doesn't."

[takingcareof]

"Ain't ever heard a pianoforte settle?" River shrugged. "They get comfortable. Creaks and groans like the elderly and infirm. But they won't sing until they have an audience. Vain things."

He was interesting her, she had to admit. Gifted at coaxing out melodies, and intelligent. Was he not from Earth-that-Was? This man was the first human she'd seen that hadn't looked at her like she was damaged. At least not for very long. Even Dean had been confused, and she knew he was intelligent in the mores of his own world. She wanted to know further about this man.

[rubicks_complex]

She definitely had a very child-like way of looking at things, except her descriptions and ways of expressing how she saw things were unlike any other House had ever heard. It was almost as though she wasn't of this world, or like she'd been withheld from the world, as though she had no proper concept of how the world was. A big judgment to make on a single meeting of somebody, yes, but it was hard not to think that when she was talking about pianos like they had a mind of their own, like any sound that something made therefore made it alive

[takingcareof]

River smiled. "Prima donnas," she said, resting her arms on the side of the piano, her chin atop the pile of her hands. "No one would come to see them if they told their secrets for free."

She looked down at the man's hands, eyes studying the veins, standing out from the pallid skin. The veins seemed bluer in her perceptions, though it was likely the light being naughty and playing tricks. He clearly made use of his hands often, but they were scarless; not like Dean's, which were riddled with tiny imperfections. Made them more real.

River cocked her head to one side, curious. "You're not a composer," she mused aloud. He would have ignored her if he'd been such a kindred to the music. "Not a writer, not a laborer. Something fancy." She looked back up, catching his critical, intent eyes. Eyes like Simon's. A shard of humanity and a thirst for knowledge. It hurt to see. "Medicine. A doctor."

A doctor ... "Can't put me in a box. Not a doll." She shrunk on instinct, though she could defend herself if her brain was correct. She'd seen

[rubicks_complex]

It was strange watching and listening to her try to deduce who or what he was. When she said explicitly medicine, that he was a doctor, House felt a stab of unease. How'd she figure that out from a series of deductions, none of which were related to the other and none of which he'd given any allusion to

[takingcareof]

The tone of voice was sincere, but not sincere enough. "Doctors are dangerous," River managed, but she stayed in her slightly crouched position, ready to react if need be. She didn't trust foes that tried to charm their victims. "Science is a cruel mistress - feeding on suffering; friendly fire takes its allies down." Her voice was rising in volume and she fought against it, even going so far as to dig her nails sharply into her wrist. Simon was whispering in her ear again. Stay calm. React with your brain. Not your emotions.

The pain did calm her down, and she was able to look up at House warily, able to react to that. He'd made no sudden moves. Maybe he'd heard of what she could do. "Call you House." She shook her head. "You don't look homey to me." Still, she could give her name. Make him realise if he tried to hurt her, that she was a human, and she could bleed. "My name is River."

[rubicks_complex]

Well, it was true to a point: doctors could indeed be dangerous. There were the kind of doctors that made fatal mistakes -- like the one you made with Esther -- and there were the kind of doctors who were just plain crap at what they did. And there were doctors like him who did outlandish things for the sake of saving a life, doing whatever it took... He was certain none of those were the kind of doctors she was referring to, though

[takingcareof]

She could handle cranky. The captain got upset. So did the traitor. Everyone did. Even Simon. Would Simon have trusted this House?

She didn't like that he was making those kinds of promises. But she shook her head, trying hard to think logically, wrapping her thin arms around her body as if it were armor. "Simon isn't here." Her voice was quiet, but as calm as she could make it. "He takes care of me, and he's a doctor. He hasn't hurt me." Maybe, just maybe, there were others like Simon?

[rubicks_complex]

Of course, House didn't know who Simon was, but that he was apparently a doctor and looked after River without hurting her made House hope that she'd associate him with this Simon instead of these other doctors that had apparently hurt her.

He slowly turned on the stool so he was facing her a little more. "That's good," he replied. "That's good you have a doctor who takes care of you."

House, to be honest, wasn't used to talking like an elementary school teacher, especially to a grown person. He wasn't used to being mindful of what he said or how he said things, and he wasn't used to making his voice sound almost gentle. She didn't appear at all belittled by any of it, though.

"Does this Simon make you feel safe?" he asked in the same awkwardly gentle tone.

[takingcareof]

She would take gentle from someone who clearly was making an effort. Now that she'd seen House up close for more than a few minutes, she recognized the hunger to learn in him. Simon had told her it was in her own eyes at times, too. She'd screamed at him for it at first, but then realised he'd been trying to be kind.

She could be kind, too. "Simon ... he's my brother." River nodded. To her, no more explanation was necessary on that score. "He needs to come here. Thought he was going to, but then the giant came." Her tone grew faintly scornful. "Greedy. Taking all the space where Simon could have been. Dean and I wished the same. He got his brother." She couldn't keep the sensation of being ill used out of her mind. She liked Dean, but she still couldn't reconcile his good fortune and her loneliness. Always alone, at least in her mind. She didn't even have the whispers anymore.

[rubicks_complex]

Well, that Simon was her brother... that made more sense why he'd take care of her. House nodded -- though, when she began talking about the giant, House quirked his brows.

Okay... a giant... He looked puzzled as she talked, something about a Dean, something about Dean getting his brother... He looked away as he tried to figure out what she was saying. The giant took all the space where Simon could've come. So, she thought this 'giant' left no room for Simon to arrive at the Hotel because she associated size with relative space. He frowned and then looked back up to River. And Dean got his brother. River said Dean and herself had wished the same thing. Maybe Dean's brother was tall.

"Is Dean's brother the giant?" he asked slowly. "Is he tall? Like a giant?"