Mark had handwavily gotten himself set up with a clinic. While he was looking forward to the experimental surgeries at the Milieux Foundation, he would be seeing patients for surgical consultations at the clinic itself ( Read more... )

House opened up the clinic, feeling smug and satisfied.

For what reasons, you probably don't want to know.

[ooc: OCD-less, because I'm really only expecting one person to ping. But open, too.]

House was at the front desk, off and on. He would repeatedly wander off to a room with a white board and go over possible diagnoses for the mysterious comas.

So far, he'd figured out just about... nothing.

[ocd coming. Sorry about lateness. Work busy, am sick, totally forgot Open now.]

Cuddy was at the clinic again today. When she wasn't checking on patients, she was sitting at the front desk.

House twiddled his thumbs at the front desk. Trauma victims were serious business. Just not challenging business. Since it was easy to diagnose.

[ooc:OCD comin Open.]

Cuddy was at the clinic, sitting behind the front desk. It was quiet as usual. She wondered if it would stay that way.

Cuddy was at the clinic today. There were a lot of patients, including the only other doctor who worked there. It had been a long weekend. Seriously.

House was at the clinic. He wasn't liking all this crap that was going on. Not one bit.

[Open now]

The usual NPC nurse was manning the desk, reading a copy of National Geographic and hoping for a quiet shift.

House finally sat at the front desk of the clinic at the crack of about 9:45 that morning. He had coffee, and he wasn't having any hopes of an interesting day, other than maybe whatever he found on the internet today. Maybe something with... porpoises.

[ooc: Ready for action!]