Busy, Monday morning
Wilson had spent a couple of days out. Out away from the apartment and away from the clinic, simply walking around. If asked, he’d claim that he was exploring his new home but in truth, he’d simply been walking and trying to wrap his brain around things. It all seemed to keep eluding him however, the divorce…the series of losses at the hospital, coming here to House…
Becoming House’s lover in fact as well as in theory after so many years.
And every so often the incredible insanity of the place snuck in to distract him from his melancholy.
There certainly was plenty!
Strolling into the clinic, the oncologist whistled softly under his breath as he headed for House’s office. He was dressed for autumn in a dark green cashmere sweater that hugged his slender form, nipping in at his trim waist. It was warm but not loose or bulky and allowed him more freedom of movement in case he was needed to work with a patient. For the time being, he had a few phone calls to make regarding blood work.
First up, he had Red’s blood work finished. Sitting down at the desk, he flipped open the tattoo artist’s file and dialed the contact number Red had left.
"Good morning, this message is for, Red."
Once that call was finished, he moved on to the next file, Jack O’Neill. It took a bit of digging to come up with good contact information but he managed to ferret it out and dialed up the young man’s voice mail.
"Good morning, this message is for, Jack O’Neill."
Once those two calls were finished, he spent a couple of hours on the phone with the supply companies, working through a restock order. Going out to the main desk to fax over a couple of req forms, he got the fax started, then filled the time waiting by leaving Lily a note.
Sticking the note on the board it read,
Lily, There has been a request from a Ms. Paige Matthews that you be primary contact person for her in medical matters. In the normal course of any medical situations that come up she would like you to assist her. I’ve made a note in her chart to the effect but wanted you to be aware. Please see me if you have any questions.
Some sort of illegible scrawl that might be his name.
Snagging the forms off the fax, he waited till he had confirmation that the requests had gone through and then headed back into the office. If he knew House and…well he did Biblical sense and all the man hadn’t done a damn thing with his weekend charting.
Wilson settled in to catch up the work, half an ear cocked towards the clinic in case anyone came by needing help.
EDIT: When he got back from speaking with Chef, Wilson wrote out a note in bold black letters and tacked it up to the board in the waiting room.
TO ANYONE WHO IS SINGING ABBA OR THE CARPENTERS.
I have spoken to Chef and he promises that the effects will wear off in a few hours. If you are still singing -and by this I mean involuntarily- tomorrow morning, please return to the Clinic and we'll take a look.
James Wilson
Becoming House’s lover in fact as well as in theory after so many years.
And every so often the incredible insanity of the place snuck in to distract him from his melancholy.
There certainly was plenty!
Strolling into the clinic, the oncologist whistled softly under his breath as he headed for House’s office. He was dressed for autumn in a dark green cashmere sweater that hugged his slender form, nipping in at his trim waist. It was warm but not loose or bulky and allowed him more freedom of movement in case he was needed to work with a patient. For the time being, he had a few phone calls to make regarding blood work.
First up, he had Red’s blood work finished. Sitting down at the desk, he flipped open the tattoo artist’s file and dialed the contact number Red had left.
"Good morning, this message is for, Red."
Once that call was finished, he moved on to the next file, Jack O’Neill. It took a bit of digging to come up with good contact information but he managed to ferret it out and dialed up the young man’s voice mail.
"Good morning, this message is for, Jack O’Neill."
Once those two calls were finished, he spent a couple of hours on the phone with the supply companies, working through a restock order. Going out to the main desk to fax over a couple of req forms, he got the fax started, then filled the time waiting by leaving Lily a note.
Sticking the note on the board it read,
Lily, There has been a request from a Ms. Paige Matthews that you be primary contact person for her in medical matters. In the normal course of any medical situations that come up she would like you to assist her. I’ve made a note in her chart to the effect but wanted you to be aware. Please see me if you have any questions.
Some sort of illegible scrawl that might be his name.
Snagging the forms off the fax, he waited till he had confirmation that the requests had gone through and then headed back into the office. If he knew House and…well he did Biblical sense and all the man hadn’t done a damn thing with his weekend charting.
Wilson settled in to catch up the work, half an ear cocked towards the clinic in case anyone came by needing help.
EDIT: When he got back from speaking with Chef, Wilson wrote out a note in bold black letters and tacked it up to the board in the waiting room.
TO ANYONE WHO IS SINGING ABBA OR THE CARPENTERS.
I have spoken to Chef and he promises that the effects will wear off in a few hours. If you are still singing -and by this I mean involuntarily- tomorrow morning, please return to the Clinic and we'll take a look.
James Wilson