[In progress; closed]
Who: Greg House (causticguy) and Daisya Barry (sh_hereisgone)
What: The practical joke war commences! Oh yeah, and that little thing about an experimental treatment to get Daisya's Innocence working again.
Where: House and Daisya's house.
When: 'Round about dinner time.
From the day that they'd returned from the beach, House had started drawing Daisya's blood. A pint every other day, spun in a home-made centrifuge, separated, frozen, and the plasma immediately reinfused. He had to be making the poor boy feel like a pin cushion by now, no matter how careful he was with the needles. And yes, he did feel bad about that, but if this worked….
If this worked it meant not just that Daisya's Innocence would start functioning again, it would mean that House had made a huge step in figuring out why and how Rivelata sapped the special abilities and talents of the people who came here. And that was a central piece of the puzzle he'd been trying to solve since he got here. It was a good distraction from the puzzles that he hadn't yet succeeded in finding even the first piece to: the puzzles of Sleeping Beauty and his own missing memory (and since his best hope for the latter had hinged on the former, a distraction and a success would be very welcome indeed).
He'd given Daisya a bare bones explanation of what he was planning to do when he'd begun drawing his blood that first day, but he hadn't really gone through the nuts and bolts of it with him yet. He had, however, demanded that the young man go on a rigorous physical training schedule in anticipation of the actual start of the treatment. (They were still just in the preparation phase, which House referred to, a wee bit morbidly, as "putting blood in the bank.")
Diasya had been in such peak physical condition when House had first met him-he remembered stitching the wound in his back and the definition of his muscles. It was amazing what those weeks in the cave had done to him.
So between that and keeping up appearances that House wasn't actually living there at all but was instead being held hostage by Schwarz in retaliation for his "betrayal" of half their number, there'd been quite a lot of very serious business afoot. And everyone knows that all work and no play makes Jack into an axe-wielding homicidal maniac who chases little boys through hedge mazes and then freezes to death in the snow.
Hence the salt shaker.
The premise was simple enough: contained within the shaker was not salt, not even sugar (House was far more creative than that) but lemon juice and baking soda, the two components separated by a thin film of tissue paper that would disintegrate as soon as the shaker (the holes of which had been neatly plugged from the within) was turned over.
House had grinned in almost manic anticipation as he'd screwed the lid back onto the rigged shaker and set it on the table just shortly before dinner. It's not like he was exactly an easy person to live with even at the best of times. And given how things had been going lately, the best of times these were not.
What: The practical joke war commences! Oh yeah, and that little thing about an experimental treatment to get Daisya's Innocence working again.
Where: House and Daisya's house.
When: 'Round about dinner time.
From the day that they'd returned from the beach, House had started drawing Daisya's blood. A pint every other day, spun in a home-made centrifuge, separated, frozen, and the plasma immediately reinfused. He had to be making the poor boy feel like a pin cushion by now, no matter how careful he was with the needles. And yes, he did feel bad about that, but if this worked….
If this worked it meant not just that Daisya's Innocence would start functioning again, it would mean that House had made a huge step in figuring out why and how Rivelata sapped the special abilities and talents of the people who came here. And that was a central piece of the puzzle he'd been trying to solve since he got here. It was a good distraction from the puzzles that he hadn't yet succeeded in finding even the first piece to: the puzzles of Sleeping Beauty and his own missing memory (and since his best hope for the latter had hinged on the former, a distraction and a success would be very welcome indeed).
He'd given Daisya a bare bones explanation of what he was planning to do when he'd begun drawing his blood that first day, but he hadn't really gone through the nuts and bolts of it with him yet. He had, however, demanded that the young man go on a rigorous physical training schedule in anticipation of the actual start of the treatment. (They were still just in the preparation phase, which House referred to, a wee bit morbidly, as "putting blood in the bank.")
Diasya had been in such peak physical condition when House had first met him-he remembered stitching the wound in his back and the definition of his muscles. It was amazing what those weeks in the cave had done to him.
So between that and keeping up appearances that House wasn't actually living there at all but was instead being held hostage by Schwarz in retaliation for his "betrayal" of half their number, there'd been quite a lot of very serious business afoot. And everyone knows that all work and no play makes Jack into an axe-wielding homicidal maniac who chases little boys through hedge mazes and then freezes to death in the snow.
Hence the salt shaker.
The premise was simple enough: contained within the shaker was not salt, not even sugar (House was far more creative than that) but lemon juice and baking soda, the two components separated by a thin film of tissue paper that would disintegrate as soon as the shaker (the holes of which had been neatly plugged from the within) was turned over.
House had grinned in almost manic anticipation as he'd screwed the lid back onto the rigged shaker and set it on the table just shortly before dinner. It's not like he was exactly an easy person to live with even at the best of times. And given how things had been going lately, the best of times these were not.