Oh, here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again.peopletalktomeAugust 4 2010, 08:16:03 UTC
Emma Pillsbury is accustomed to the rush of new students and club days and the like. Emma Pillsbury is accustomed to the overall school setting in general. Emma Pillsbury rather likes it all too...well, almost all of it. As the school guidance counselor, the redhead sees all of the students at least once and many of them more than once, but she has for some time been seeing a great deal more repeat visitors from the classes of one teacher in particular. It is with this teacher in mind that she marches---as much as one can march when wearing perfectly coordinated turquoise t-straps---into the teacher's lounger.
The target sits in the far corner---of course, she rolls her eyes--with a donut at the ready. Quite suddenly it feels like more than something personal...er not that it's personal though this man certainly has a way of picking at personal insecurities. She hasn't forgotten the clock. But this is something else, something almost like a duty for the greater good, or maybe that's just in her head as she approaches his otherwise unoccupied table. Perhaps one of the most irksome things about Gregory House is that he happens to be the one person Emma Pillsbury cannot bring herself to be nice to.
She tried, at first, or maybe she didn't even try that much but she made the effort at the pretense of it, which some would say is worse because it's a lie but to Emma it was a way to cope professionally in the working place. That boat has long since sailed however, and it leaves her rather flustered, sometimes at a loss with how to act because, quite succinctly put, he upsets almost everything about her.
"I need to talk to you." It's hardly a greeting, emphasized by a hand at either side of her waist, head tilted and eyes wide as usual but backed by a sharpness that seems to say now.
Oh, here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again.vicodincrutchAugust 5 2010, 18:19:15 UTC
The donut, a delightful, diet breaking, sprinkle laden piece of pastry, is actually House's second. And that's on a need to know basis. In the teacher's lounge, he's built a small Shangri La made up of tabloids, coffee and donuts. He sits on the more comfortable chair with the cushion, his cane is laid over the table in front of him. One man taking up a whole table, as though that doesn't say enough about him already. He expects that this time away from the pubescent bags of issues and attitude to go uninterrupted. Why? Because he's Gregory House.
Instead, he hears a clickity-clack of heels. A floor view shows turquoise t-straps. "I need to figure out what they're going to do to Lindsay Lohan."
Which one of the many tender heart to hearts will this be about? That one kid with two mommies? If they're going to be upfront about it, may as well see the entire forest that the beavers live in. Maybe it was the kid that looks like Meatloaf. While thinking he turns the page. House takes a sip of coffee and glances at the floor again. Those turquoise t-straps haven't budged.
He sets down the Enquirer and folds it shut. Rather than getting up or even asking what she wants. He takes a big bite out of the donut. "Phforry," he manages while chewing, "biffy."
Oh, here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again.peopletalktomeAugust 18 2010, 07:19:53 UTC
"Yes, I can see that," she says, distastefully too, t-straps still not budging, though the same can't be said for her head as she tilts it at him. She shouldn't be surprised anymore, shouldn't be this taken aback, but she finds every time she winds up in his corner, she is all of that---sometimes more. His self-importance reminds her of someone, or she thinks it does but constantly brushes it off in the face of what is actually there, or here rather. If she didn't have to put gloves on to do it and possibly industrially sanitize her hands anyway afterward, she would take that donut from him. It's not like he needs it anyway.
"I'll wait."
What translates of course is something not unlike you can't get rid of me that easily, and if she sounds a little pleased about it, well, Emma isn't above some return stubbornness and snark when certain buttons have been pushed one too many times. The students are vulnerable enough without someone so aptly taking them apart in the thick of it, and what's worse is she knows that he knows it already...and still does it. Unacceptable, but she has yet to make the kind of impression that encourages change, and there is a fair amount of frustration rooting up from that point of discontent too, even if she's loathe to admit it. Ever.
Oh, here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again.vicodincrutchAugust 24 2010, 05:01:56 UTC
House chews slower as though he were in a strange kind of time and space vortex. Something that echoed just how long and boring their exchanges were to him. Even more so he lifts the coffee slowly, slowly, s l o w l y. . . .
Why is she still standing there? As fun as it is to continue to annoy her, it may just be easier to unsheath his rapier wit, cut her down and go on with break as it was intended.
Those big Bambi eyes in there attempts at a furious stare only remind him that he should wash his hubcaps. Really, his whole car is filthy. Perhaps he should find a hanky of hers to use it with. Oh, clever. Something worth writing down.
House slurps down coffee and smiles at her. "Okay. Hey, any chance you have a pen?"
The target sits in the far corner---of course, she rolls her eyes--with a donut at the ready. Quite suddenly it feels like more than something personal...er not that it's personal though this man certainly has a way of picking at personal insecurities. She hasn't forgotten the clock. But this is something else, something almost like a duty for the greater good, or maybe that's just in her head as she approaches his otherwise unoccupied table. Perhaps one of the most irksome things about Gregory House is that he happens to be the one person Emma Pillsbury cannot bring herself to be nice to.
She tried, at first, or maybe she didn't even try that much but she made the effort at the pretense of it, which some would say is worse because it's a lie but to Emma it was a way to cope professionally in the working place. That boat has long since sailed however, and it leaves her rather flustered, sometimes at a loss with how to act because, quite succinctly put, he upsets almost everything about her.
"I need to talk to you." It's hardly a greeting, emphasized by a hand at either side of her waist, head tilted and eyes wide as usual but backed by a sharpness that seems to say now.
Reply
Instead, he hears a clickity-clack of heels. A floor view shows turquoise t-straps. "I need to figure out what they're going to do to Lindsay Lohan."
Which one of the many tender heart to hearts will this be about? That one kid with two mommies? If they're going to be upfront about it, may as well see the entire forest that the beavers live in. Maybe it was the kid that looks like Meatloaf. While thinking he turns the page. House takes a sip of coffee and glances at the floor again. Those turquoise t-straps haven't budged.
He sets down the Enquirer and folds it shut. Rather than getting up or even asking what she wants. He takes a big bite out of the donut. "Phforry," he manages while chewing, "biffy."
Reply
"I'll wait."
What translates of course is something not unlike you can't get rid of me that easily, and if she sounds a little pleased about it, well, Emma isn't above some return stubbornness and snark when certain buttons have been pushed one too many times. The students are vulnerable enough without someone so aptly taking them apart in the thick of it, and what's worse is she knows that he knows it already...and still does it. Unacceptable, but she has yet to make the kind of impression that encourages change, and there is a fair amount of frustration rooting up from that point of discontent too, even if she's loathe to admit it. Ever.
Reply
Why is she still standing there? As fun as it is to continue to annoy her, it may just be easier to unsheath his rapier wit, cut her down and go on with break as it was intended.
Those big Bambi eyes in there attempts at a furious stare only remind him that he should wash his hubcaps. Really, his whole car is filthy. Perhaps he should find a hanky of hers to use it with. Oh, clever. Something worth writing down.
House slurps down coffee and smiles at her. "Okay. Hey, any chance you have a pen?"
Reply
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