Radius
Written forwriters_muses , Prompt Set #129.6- Radius
He had a copy of the x-ray sent to his office computer along with the scanned in, scrawled ER doc's notes who saw Wilson and shipped him off to have the films taken to confirm and the cast applied. He pulled up the program to look at the x-ray, waiting for it to load. He would have preferred getting the actual film to put up on the light box in his office, but he didn't care to have his minions know he cared. Foreman could have cared less and not said anything and Chase was still treading lightly a year after taking out Dibala and his current marital mess. He couldn't take the knowing smirk that 13 would give him though and Taub was a quick little bastard who would have picked up on 13's reaction and pressed her or him about it.
He examined a couple of the films side by side and had to admit the computer program was kind of neat. He rotated the images around and zoomed in on them with just a few clicks of his mouse. He stared at the simple hairline fracture that was visible in Wilson's left radius. Part of him wanted to go down to the ER and crack loud, obnoxious jokes about Wilson not being able to masturbate with his dominant hand for awhile, but for some reason he sat, unmoving where he was and stared at his screen.
The hastily scrawled note, not yet transcribed from the near illegible scrawl had observed this break was an accident due to a fall in the bathroom. He shivered as he recalled his own recent spill, the one in the tub as his guardrail came loose. Even though that fall was Lucas' fault, even though it hadn't been an accident, its consequences and possible consequences still remained. As it was, House still felt a little sore from the tumble and had a lightening bruise where he landed in the tub. He could have been hurt much worse, even killed from the tumble. He knew Wilson's fall was not his fault. Ever since Wilson's unspoken but loud allowance of House to use the tub when his leg was bothering him, he had been meticulous in cleaning up and drying the floor, as he had been this morning.
He couldn't quite shake the guilt, irrational though it was. Had he been sure the floor was dry? Of course he had, but still... Between that guilt and not being able to shake the images of Wilson lying on the floor after a spill with more severe injuries or worse, cold fear kept him sitting in his office instead of going down to the ER to harass Wilson and take his mind off things.
He had a copy of the x-ray sent to his office computer along with the scanned in, scrawled ER doc's notes who saw Wilson and shipped him off to have the films taken to confirm and the cast applied. He pulled up the program to look at the x-ray, waiting for it to load. He would have preferred getting the actual film to put up on the light box in his office, but he didn't care to have his minions know he cared. Foreman could have cared less and not said anything and Chase was still treading lightly a year after taking out Dibala and his current marital mess. He couldn't take the knowing smirk that 13 would give him though and Taub was a quick little bastard who would have picked up on 13's reaction and pressed her or him about it.
He examined a couple of the films side by side and had to admit the computer program was kind of neat. He rotated the images around and zoomed in on them with just a few clicks of his mouse. He stared at the simple hairline fracture that was visible in Wilson's left radius. Part of him wanted to go down to the ER and crack loud, obnoxious jokes about Wilson not being able to masturbate with his dominant hand for awhile, but for some reason he sat, unmoving where he was and stared at his screen.
The hastily scrawled note, not yet transcribed from the near illegible scrawl had observed this break was an accident due to a fall in the bathroom. He shivered as he recalled his own recent spill, the one in the tub as his guardrail came loose. Even though that fall was Lucas' fault, even though it hadn't been an accident, its consequences and possible consequences still remained. As it was, House still felt a little sore from the tumble and had a lightening bruise where he landed in the tub. He could have been hurt much worse, even killed from the tumble. He knew Wilson's fall was not his fault. Ever since Wilson's unspoken but loud allowance of House to use the tub when his leg was bothering him, he had been meticulous in cleaning up and drying the floor, as he had been this morning.
He couldn't quite shake the guilt, irrational though it was. Had he been sure the floor was dry? Of course he had, but still... Between that guilt and not being able to shake the images of Wilson lying on the floor after a spill with more severe injuries or worse, cold fear kept him sitting in his office instead of going down to the ER to harass Wilson and take his mind off things.