(Untitled)

[yourtieisugly]

'Man sitting at the bar, his long grasshopper legs tucked up on the support struts of the stool beneath him. He looks like the type that frequents this type of bar -- and worse. The kinds of places where gum isn't the only substance you have to worry about scraping off the bottom of your shoes after you leave

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[yourtieisugly]

Observation had become a game in the institution. Every Tuesday and Thursday, the little white bus would arrive and a new group of recruits would come bouncing off, like the monkeys on the bed in that kid's nursery song. The game was to identify which new patient had what condition, just by standing beside the window that overlooked the courtyard. Some of them were obvious. You could pretty much pick out the schizos and hardcore crazies becayse they had muscle prodding them toward the door. Less obvious were the hoarders, paranoids and fetishists. Delusions were easy to spot -- they waved their arms in the air like they just didn't care -- and therefore didn't count for points.

The point is, House had gotten pretty good at reading the crazy on other people.

The guy at the other end of the bar was wearing a suit, probably from Saville Row. 'Had a kind of refined sense of style to him that House didn't think quite fit the establishment. House had seen the bartender pour a glass out of an expensive-looking bottle. Whiskey or scotch or something palatable. Whatever it was, it was as refined as the guy's polished leather loafers.

House has him written off as an eccentric -- maybe one of those guys who collects stuffed snowy owls and sits around in his living room blowing into a bubble pipe -- when he gets a nod. A nod.

He raises his sloppy stein in answer.

[doyouhearthem]

This other man was analyzing him as well. He had only the vaguest sense of it, like a brushing against his back. The Master blinked a bit in surprise - he could've sworn the man was too pissed to notice.

He leaned forward. "Rough day, then?"

[yourtieisugly]

House put his thumb down in a puddle of beer and worked his smirk sideways. "What, are you kidding? Any day you get out of the asylum is a good day." He lifts his beer. "I'm celebrating."

[doyouhearthem]

He raised an eyebrow and turned to face House. "Are you an escapee then," he asked bemusedly. "My, I could think of better uses of my freedom than to get smashed in a place like this."

[yourtieisugly]

"I was discharged. Paperwork's in my bag." He kicked the lumpy duffel at his feet.

"And there was a lot of derision in that thar' sentence. Which part are you more at odds with: the fact that I'm choosing to spend the first two hours of my freedom getting smashed on cheap beer, or that I'm doing it in a place where they probably use flypaper for coasters?"

[doyouhearthem]

"Bit of both, actually."

He took another sip of his brandy. "If it were me, I would want the most expensive drink in the house. I'd buy it for myself and as many beautiful women as I could, and I'd get no sleep at all until I was sated and quite forgotten how I got there in the first place."

[yourtieisugly]

Whoa. This guy was like Oscar Wilde on overdrive. Lady-oriented, though, of course. House had to crack a smile. Hell, he was almost forced to after hearing that kind of response.

"What're you drinking?" He nodded to the glass in the other man's hand.

[doyouhearthem]

If he were being honest, it wouldn't matter what beautiful thing he happened to seduce. But Earth girls (as they say) are easy, and it was simpler than explaining himself to this man.

"Brandy. Armagnac, actually. Not the most expensive of drinks, but it's still very fine. Did you know in the fourteenth century, it was taken as medicine?"

[yourtieisugly]

"Did you know that 'santa' is 'satan' spelled inside out?"

He took a considering sip of his beer and set it down inside the same condensation circle. "Armagnac is good, but if you're looking for taste, Calvados is the way to go. The old stuff, especially. Not the crap produced after the French government made them change the process."

[doyouhearthem]

The Master sneered at this.

"An infantryman's drink," he murmured. "Produced out of desperation. I didn't care for it in Normandy, I have no desire for it now."

[yourtieisugly]

"Doesn't seem to be a better reason to drink than out of a sense of desperation. When the gallows looms and the walls are closing in. You'd probably drink rubbing alcohol." A blink and a glance. "Snob."

[doyouhearthem]

He glanced back at House. "I wonder, then, if the gallows loom for you."

There was a threatening hardness in his voice.

"I've no such worry. I'm free now."

[yourtieisugly]

That's a good question. House craned his nose over his shoulder, checking the corners of the room. Whatever blonde phantom had followed him here was gone. Her perfume lingered, though, or at least he imagined that it did. He turned back.

"Free?" he asked. "You're pretty well dressed for a guy who just got out of prison. Even English prison."

[doyouhearthem]

"Not prison. Or at least not that kind of prison," the Master added as he took another sip, motioned to the bartender to refill his glass. "No, it's a long story, I'm afraid. Needless to say, I was stranded, and now I'm not."

[yourtieisugly]

"Mazeltov." The man could have said he was the next Guy Fawkes and House would have said that. Still, that little bit of information went into the big filing system between House's ears, tucked inside a large folder called 'Brandy Aficionados I Have Known'.

His beer had started to go room temperature and House was drinking more slowly. He'd hit his plateau. "That accent," he began, trying another game, "it's what, Leeds? Easingwold?"

[doyouhearthem]

He paused, alarm clouding his features for a moment. No one ever asked where he was from. No one ever thought to, when his telepathic field held the world enthralled. He barely knew where Leeds was.

He laughed softly, shrugging it off. "Something like that, yeah. I'm from here and there. Lived in London for years, been all 'round Britain. And you? Obviously a Yank. Can't tell one from another, really."