(no subject)
Who: House, Steve McQueen the Chuumon, [OPEN]
What: The most important thing.
When: March 26th, Mid afternoon
Where: Royal Base, Medical Ward
This wasn't good. No, this wasn't good at ALL.
"Um... Greg?" piped a small voice from behind him.
"Hold this," House said, tossing a canned soda blindly back over his shoulder. The Chuumon at his feet yelped, scrambling to catch the can.
The doctor stroked his stuble covered chin, trying quickly to analyze the situation before him. This was VERY troubling indeed, and something he needed to rectify as soon as possible... The consequences could be dire.
Taking his cane, he slapped the side of the snack vending machine in front of him - which held a sign reading "out of order" - and gave a light curse. "Steve, turn into the mole rate and dig in there. Get me a bag of chips."
"What?!" Steve the Chuumon exclaimed. "That'd be stealing!"
"It's BROKEN. It's not taking my money anyway."
"...you could just go to the cafeteria..."
"Nothing but pocket change on me, anyway."
"....." Steve sighed. "I told you not to go to the red light district in Neon City."
"How was I supposed to know that hooker was going to steal my wallet? Now, c'mon, make with the shinies. I'm going to miss my soaps. Angemon is going to propose to that Lilymon today, not knowing she's secretly a lesbian."
"........you know, Greg, I really don't think the Vice-Commander is going to appreciate you using his room to--"
"I don't pay you to think."
"You don't PAY me anything."
"....touche," House said, and paused slightly, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. "It's therapy."
"...huh?"
"Oh, yeah," the man said, glancing down at the Digimon. "Human company watching television with coma patients is real helpful for them. It's in all the books."
"...really?"
House looked back at the vending machine. "Yeah, sure. Now, you gonna get me my chips?"
What: The most important thing.
When: March 26th, Mid afternoon
Where: Royal Base, Medical Ward
This wasn't good. No, this wasn't good at ALL.
"Um... Greg?" piped a small voice from behind him.
"Hold this," House said, tossing a canned soda blindly back over his shoulder. The Chuumon at his feet yelped, scrambling to catch the can.
The doctor stroked his stuble covered chin, trying quickly to analyze the situation before him. This was VERY troubling indeed, and something he needed to rectify as soon as possible... The consequences could be dire.
Taking his cane, he slapped the side of the snack vending machine in front of him - which held a sign reading "out of order" - and gave a light curse. "Steve, turn into the mole rate and dig in there. Get me a bag of chips."
"What?!" Steve the Chuumon exclaimed. "That'd be stealing!"
"It's BROKEN. It's not taking my money anyway."
"...you could just go to the cafeteria..."
"Nothing but pocket change on me, anyway."
"....." Steve sighed. "I told you not to go to the red light district in Neon City."
"How was I supposed to know that hooker was going to steal my wallet? Now, c'mon, make with the shinies. I'm going to miss my soaps. Angemon is going to propose to that Lilymon today, not knowing she's secretly a lesbian."
"........you know, Greg, I really don't think the Vice-Commander is going to appreciate you using his room to--"
"I don't pay you to think."
"You don't PAY me anything."
"....touche," House said, and paused slightly, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. "It's therapy."
"...huh?"
"Oh, yeah," the man said, glancing down at the Digimon. "Human company watching television with coma patients is real helpful for them. It's in all the books."
"...really?"
House looked back at the vending machine. "Yeah, sure. Now, you gonna get me my chips?"