"One minute past," he replied in greeting, pointing to his watch. "Time was getting on; I was wondering where you'd got to."
He hesitated at the door, watching Cuddy venture back into the room and then stepped inside. He quietly closed the door behind him and faced back to Cuddy, resting both hands on the handle of his cane while she fetched his pill. Couldn't she move any faster than that? He wanted the damn pill now. House gave a quiet, agitated sigh and glanced around her room as he drummed his fingers on his cane.
The silence was making him feel even more agitated, but it was hard to think of anything to say when his mind was so transfixed on getting the pill. House rarely fell short of anything to say, so the silence was likely going to be noticeable to Cuddy. He wracked his brain for something to say. The last few times they'd been in each other's company it had turned out to be nothing but a confrontation, which he was hoping to avoid for at least five minutes this time around. At the rate in which they were constantly at each other's throats, five minutes without a confrontation was going to be a record.
"So," he said after a short pause, lightly thumping his cane on the floor in an anxious beat. "You get any sleep?"
"Yeah, yeah," Cuddy muttered under her breath when House complained that she was late. Honestly, she was surprised he'd held out this long. She'd expected him to be at her door much earlier, trying to manipulate her into giving him his pill ahead of schedule. Well, maybe the seriousness of his situation had finally sunk in and he was trying to be responsible about his actions for once. She could hope anyway.
"Sleep? No, not yet. I've been trying to keep busy," she said as she dropped the pill into his hand. Her expression soured as House's presence reminded her of what he thought of her usefulness. She added, her tone a little sharp, "I'm sure I wasn't doing anything significant, but that's nothing new, right?"
She turned away and walked toward the bed, shaking her head. She was tired--of everything, but especially of constantly fighting with House. She made a dismissive wave of her hand letting House know she didn't want to get into it again.
"I don't want to resort to sleeping pills if I don't have to," she explained. "I was hoping if I stayed busy all day, I'd be tired enough to sleep tonight."
The moment the pill was dropped into his hand, House threw his head back and tossed the pill into his mouth, and swallowed it like he was man dying of thirst and getting his first drop of water in days. He closed his eyes as he felt the pill going down his throat and exhaled sharply, as though the pill was some kind of instant relief. He even welcomed the bitter powdery taste it left on his tongue.
He looked back down to Cuddy just in time to catch the sour look she threw at him, along with her clipped words. The pill now in his system he felt instantly more relaxed, and he rolled his eyes at Cuddy's defensiveness. She had every right to be that way, considering all they did was fight. But he wasn't here to fight. Her exhibiting defensiveness like that, especially if she was going to keep it up, would make House defensive in response, and quickly.
"You're giving me my pill. That's significant. At least, to me it is."
He watched her move across to the bed. "There's such a thing as overtiredness," he replied, going along with the dismissive wave she gave him. "Body's exhausted but your mind's overcooked from running on empty. Sleeping pills're a good option for that kind of thing."
He thumped his cane on the floor and glanced around her room again. Well, he'd got his pill. That was all he'd come here for, really. No need to stay, especially not if Cuddy was expecting them to fight. He looked behind him at the door and then back at Cuddy. As long as he continued making no effort to get along with Cuddy, it was always going to be like this between them. So, he could either leave and not bother making an effort at all or he could bother and say that he at least tried, even if it didn't work out.
"I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner," he abruptly announced.
A little ambitious, perhaps. But ambitious though it was, it still counted as an effort as far as House was concerned.
Cuddy merely rolled her eyes. Doling out House's pills was hardly a significant act. Necessary, but as House would likely point out--a trained monkey could do it.
"I know that," she said when House gave her a reason to resort to sleeping pills. "But this place messes with our minds enough. I don't want to start using drugs to deal with it."
The comment wasn't meant as a dig at House's drug use, but over the years she'd seen the way he'd used his drugs for more then just physical pain. It was a lesson in how easy it was to fall into dependence, and she was afraid of going down that path.
"Dinner?" Cuddy stopped just as she was about to sit on the bed and turned to look at House in surprise. "With me?"
Her immediate response was to ask why, was his stripper was too busy to have dinner with him? But she bit back the words. If House was going to try to be civil, the least she could do was respond in kind.
"Yeah, sure," she said. She ran a hand through her hair, still somewhat perplexed at the invitation. "Why not?"
House set his jaw at her comment about using drugs to deal with the Hotel -- he'd taken that to mean she was having a stab at him. He forcefully bit back a retort, concentrating on her confusion at him asking her to dinner instead. He wasn't sure what he'd expected her to say -- perhaps a refusal of his invitation, or a scoffed, remark, or a derogatory comment. He hadn't really expected her to just agree to it.
"Or you could ask 'why' but that would mean going into reasons I can't be bothered explaining," House replied dryly.
He sighed and studied Cuddy's face with a frown. God, dinner. Why didn't he ask for something much less problematic, like... He couldn't think of anything. A drink at the bar? She'd have gone off at him regarding mixing alcohol with drugs. A walk? He wasn't sure he could walk and talk at the same time with Cuddy without feeling like he was supposed to start outrunning her like he did at work.
Work. He didn't want to think about work, or home. He shut those thoughts off quickly. "Alright," he continued after a pause. "If you're going as you are, then let's go. If you're not, I'll just stand here while you change, and enjoy the view."
"Do you even know why?" Cuddy asked. Sometimes she wondered if House planned everything he did, or if he simply acted and worried about the reasons later.
She gave House a quick look. He appeared to have put some effort into his appearance; he was wearing the blue shirt that almost looked nice. There wasn't any dress code here that she'd discovered, but again, if House was making an effort, she felt she should as well. She decided her jeans were fine, but reached into the closet to find a nicer shirt.
"Unless Mr. Creepy has given you x-ray vision, you won't be viewing anything," she taunted as she walked to the bathroom. She pushed the the door almost, but not completely closed behind her. She stripped off her t-shirt and quickly splashed some cold water on her face. She dried her face and ran a comb through her hair before slipping on the red silk blouse.
"That's kind of a scary thought, isn't it?" Cuddy exited the bathroom, finishing up the last couple of buttons on her blouse. "How much do you think Mr. Creepy or his minions can see?"
House rolled his eyes at her question. "No, I totally don't know why I'm asking you to dinner with me," he sarcastically replied.
He watched Cuddy looking at him, before following her with his eyes as she moved across to the closet. Was he going to regret this later? Probably. He was already forseeing an argument breaking out at the dinner table over something, because she got defensive at things he said, and he got defensive at things she said. He stood a little straighter, asserting to himself in his mind that he was going to at least attempt to get on with Cuddy, even if it was just for tonight, for half an hour.
When she said he wouldn't be viewing anything, House gave a mock disappointed, "Damn." As she got dressed in the bathroom, House's attention turned to a set of drawers near him, which he took liberties in opening the top one and peeking in to see what Cuddy had stashed in there. Underwear. He snapped to attention and quickly shut the drawer again when Cuddy headed back out of the bathroom.
"Hmmm," he mused to her comment about the Bellboy being able to see people in the Hotel. That hadn't really occured to House before. Boy, he didn't like that idea; the Bellboy and staff being able to watch his every move.
"I don't know," he honestly replied, frowning. "I'm not sure I like the idea of being subject to Big Brother against my will. I think that's one of those things you're not supposed to think about, unless you're actively seeking to become a basketcase bourne out of sheer paranoia."
He didn't want to think about that, though. House frantically searched for something to say to change the topic as he opened the door. "You look nice," was the first thing that came out of his mouth, and he then grimaced at his own words.
He opened the door wide for Cuddy, and shooed her with his cane hand. "Come on, out," he added impatiently.
Cuddy eyed House suspiciously when she walked back into the bedroom. She was sure he'd been up to something, or into something, but she didn't know what. She hadn't hidden his pills because she was fairly certain the hotel would stop him from getting them. She thought House probably realized that as well, and wouldn't be trying to get his pills. That wouldn't stop him from snooping through everything else, though, terminally curious as he was.
She didn't want to think about how the hotel knew as much as it did about her either. It made her deeply uncomfortable to think of her privacy being invaded that way. She grabbed her room key, ready to leave, and nearly laughed out of surprise when House complimented her. Especially since it wasn't followed by some lewd come-on. Puzzling over his attitude, she simply exited her room and let House close the door behind them.
They were both silent as they walked along the hallway. Cuddy was too busy trying to figure out House's motives. There had to be one; he wouldn't be nice to her without a reason. She snuck a glance at him, but his expression was unrevealing.
"So," she said, simply to break the silence. "The Oxycontin, is it working okay?"
He didn't want to talk about whether the Oxycontin was working or not, or about his drugs or Vicodin or anything like that. It had been bad enough trying to get his mind off it all day, unsuccessfully, and if he wanted at least a part-way civilised dinner with Cuddy, talking about his drugs wasn't going to go in favour of either of them -- considering how easily defensive he got about it, and how easily angered she got about his drug dependency. Besides, he had another twelve hours ahead of him before he could get his next dose. Yeah, he didn't want to be thinking about anything pertaining to medicinal pain relief.
House was aware that Cuddy was sneaking glances at him. He could only deduce that Cuddy was perhaps suspicious of his intentions. After all the unrest between them, it was a little sudden that he was attempting to be pleasant, if only for a short period of time. But what did she seriously want? Someone to talk to, and now House was making an (awkward) conscientous effort, she didn't like it? The uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them as they headed for the elevator was starting to aggravate him; if she was going to treat him with utmost suspicion for the duration of their dinner, then he was going to land himself on the defensive side quick and fast.
When they reached the elevator, he thumbed the down button and then looked squarely back at Cuddy. "Look, if you've got a problem with having dinner with me, then now's your chance to bail out."
"And miss a chance to annoy you?" Cuddy asked. She wasn't out to annoy House. She didn't like fighting with him, never had. It was just the way it was. She supposed it was, in part, due to the fact that she was his boss and therefore the person who was always making him follow those pesky rules.
But she wasn't his boss any more, and she no longer knew what the rules were. She didn't even know that the 'rules' were between her and House any more.
Cuddy leaned against the wall, looking at House. "You don't do things because it's polite or socially acceptable. So forgive me for wondering why you'd ask me to join you for dinner in the first place."
House thumped his cane on the floor and sighed impatiently as he looked down the hallway. Why couldn't she just accept his invitation for what it was rather than demand to know why he was doing this? He didn't want to explain that he was making an effort because he was in a way sick of fighting with her. Even House got sick of fighting sometimes. Not to mention that he felt in some way that he owed it to Cuddy to show some kind of gratitude to how much she'd put up with from him. Up until the day before, when he was on the brink of hurting Cuddy to get to the pills, he hadn't realised or even cared just how much she'd done for him.
And while it had occured to him that maybe if he tried being nice to Cuddy he might be able to bribe her into giving him more pills, he quickly dismissed that idea. Considering how adamant she was being about his medication, he doubted she'd cave and she'd probably see through that pretty quickly, especially now she was on guard with him. So, for once in House's life, he was being nice-ish to Cuddy without an ulterior motive. He didn't want to explain any of that to her, though.
He looked back to Cuddy with a wry expression on his face. "Maybe I'm just test driving that statement you made about being fun," he replied. "There's not a lot of fun to be had around here, so why not see what you have to offer."
Cuddy stared at House for a moment, her expression blank. Then she burst out in a laugh. "God, you must be hard up for fun."
Well, wasn't she hard up, too? For fun that was. If she were honest with herself, fun had been lacking for even longer than she'd been trapped in the hotel. She wasn't happy about that fact, but it was a fact.
The smile stayed on her face, though. She didn't really know why she found it amusing, except that it felt like normal House behavior for him to seek out entertainment of any kind.
"Hope you weren't expecting me to dance on the tables or something. I'd have to be pretty drunk to be that much fun." Cuddy pushed off where she was leaning against the wall as the elevator arrived. "Besides, they don't have any decent 'dancing on the tables' music around here."
He wasn't sure what she was laughing at, at first, and started to scowl. Paranoia told him that she was laughing out of disbelief and was going to continue goading him for the real reason why he'd asked her to join him for dinner. He started to relax, though, with the response she gave, and relaxed even more when the smile stayed on her face. Okay, she seemed to buy his reason.
And truthfully, House was interested to know what kind of 'fun' Cuddy could be, seeing she'd made that statement. So, he supposed the reason he gave wasn't an out and out lie. Her buying the reason he gave, however, was good enough for him. He even gave her a brief smile in return.
"Get drunk enough, it won't matter if there's any music or not," he replied as he followed her into the elevator. He hit the ground floor button once inside the elevator and then looked back to Cuddy, now with an expression of amusement on his face.
"I've always thought you needed to cut loose once in a while. If dancing on tables is your idea of cutting loose, I'm not going to stop you. All the more entertainment for me."
"I'm too old to be dancing on the tables," Cuddy said, only mildly regretful. With her luck, she fall and break her leg, or worse, and she didn't want to test the hotel's ability to provide medical treatment. Her expression turned wistful then. "Dancing would be nice, though. I haven't been dancing in ages."
She came back to herself with a start, realizing that it had been even longer since House had been able to dance. He probably didn't want to be reminded of what he couldn't do.
"Or gambling. They need a casino in here." Cuddy gave House a challenging look as the elevator arrived on the ground floor and opened. "I'd beat the pants off you at poker."
"Strip poker? Yeah, I've no doubt. I'd beat the bra of you."
He leered at her, though in a good natured way and followed her out of the elevator when the doors opened. He'd dismissed the comment she made about dancing -- that wasn't something he particularly ever enjoyed, anyway. Slow-dancing was about as much as he could manage these days, and that was something he definitely felt uncomfortable doing. So, in the grand scheme of what he could and couldn't do, he wasn't too bothered that he couldn't really dance anymore. Wasn't something he greatly missed, anyway.
"But you're right," he continued. "They do need a casino in here. Something bright and flashy, Vegas-style casino. Don't know how it would work, though, seeing no one earns any money in here. So, the novelty would last only as long as people's remaining dollars do."
Reaching the function hall, House grabbed the handle of the door and pulled the door open for Cuddy. "After you."
"As it should be," Cuddy said lightly when House opened the door. She made her way to the buffet table and looked over the selections as she picked up a plate.
House was right; gambling was only fun if you had something riding on the outcome. With no real monetary system in the hotel, gambling would be just another pointless way to waste time.
"Billiards? Darts? Drag racing?" Cuddy suggested. She gave a puzzled shake of her head. There had to be some form of fun around here. A thought occurred to her then. The clinic had 'appeared' only when she went looking for it. Maybe they simply needed to go looking for fun, some kind of diversion.
She glanced at House. "Things seem to show up around here when you need them. I'm wondering...maybe we'd find some entertainment if we specifically went looking for it."
He hesitated at the door, watching Cuddy venture back into the room and then stepped inside. He quietly closed the door behind him and faced back to Cuddy, resting both hands on the handle of his cane while she fetched his pill. Couldn't she move any faster than that? He wanted the damn pill now. House gave a quiet, agitated sigh and glanced around her room as he drummed his fingers on his cane.
The silence was making him feel even more agitated, but it was hard to think of anything to say when his mind was so transfixed on getting the pill. House rarely fell short of anything to say, so the silence was likely going to be noticeable to Cuddy. He wracked his brain for something to say. The last few times they'd been in each other's company it had turned out to be nothing but a confrontation, which he was hoping to avoid for at least five minutes this time around. At the rate in which they were constantly at each other's throats, five minutes without a confrontation was going to be a record.
"So," he said after a short pause, lightly thumping his cane on the floor in an anxious beat. "You get any sleep?"
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"Sleep? No, not yet. I've been trying to keep busy," she said as she dropped the pill into his hand. Her expression soured as House's presence reminded her of what he thought of her usefulness. She added, her tone a little sharp, "I'm sure I wasn't doing anything significant, but that's nothing new, right?"
She turned away and walked toward the bed, shaking her head. She was tired--of everything, but especially of constantly fighting with House. She made a dismissive wave of her hand letting House know she didn't want to get into it again.
"I don't want to resort to sleeping pills if I don't have to," she explained. "I was hoping if I stayed busy all day, I'd be tired enough to sleep tonight."
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He looked back down to Cuddy just in time to catch the sour look she threw at him, along with her clipped words. The pill now in his system he felt instantly more relaxed, and he rolled his eyes at Cuddy's defensiveness. She had every right to be that way, considering all they did was fight. But he wasn't here to fight. Her exhibiting defensiveness like that, especially if she was going to keep it up, would make House defensive in response, and quickly.
"You're giving me my pill. That's significant. At least, to me it is."
He watched her move across to the bed. "There's such a thing as overtiredness," he replied, going along with the dismissive wave she gave him. "Body's exhausted but your mind's overcooked from running on empty. Sleeping pills're a good option for that kind of thing."
He thumped his cane on the floor and glanced around her room again. Well, he'd got his pill. That was all he'd come here for, really. No need to stay, especially not if Cuddy was expecting them to fight. He looked behind him at the door and then back at Cuddy. As long as he continued making no effort to get along with Cuddy, it was always going to be like this between them. So, he could either leave and not bother making an effort at all or he could bother and say that he at least tried, even if it didn't work out.
"I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner," he abruptly announced.
A little ambitious, perhaps. But ambitious though it was, it still counted as an effort as far as House was concerned.
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"I know that," she said when House gave her a reason to resort to sleeping pills. "But this place messes with our minds enough. I don't want to start using drugs to deal with it."
The comment wasn't meant as a dig at House's drug use, but over the years she'd seen the way he'd used his drugs for more then just physical pain. It was a lesson in how easy it was to fall into dependence, and she was afraid of going down that path.
"Dinner?" Cuddy stopped just as she was about to sit on the bed and turned to look at House in surprise. "With me?"
Her immediate response was to ask why, was his stripper was too busy to have dinner with him? But she bit back the words. If House was going to try to be civil, the least she could do was respond in kind.
"Yeah, sure," she said. She ran a hand through her hair, still somewhat perplexed at the invitation. "Why not?"
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"Or you could ask 'why' but that would mean going into reasons I can't be bothered explaining," House replied dryly.
He sighed and studied Cuddy's face with a frown. God, dinner. Why didn't he ask for something much less problematic, like... He couldn't think of anything. A drink at the bar? She'd have gone off at him regarding mixing alcohol with drugs. A walk? He wasn't sure he could walk and talk at the same time with Cuddy without feeling like he was supposed to start outrunning her like he did at work.
Work. He didn't want to think about work, or home. He shut those thoughts off quickly. "Alright," he continued after a pause. "If you're going as you are, then let's go. If you're not, I'll just stand here while you change, and enjoy the view."
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She gave House a quick look. He appeared to have put some effort into his appearance; he was wearing the blue shirt that almost looked nice. There wasn't any dress code here that she'd discovered, but again, if House was making an effort, she felt she should as well. She decided her jeans were fine, but reached into the closet to find a nicer shirt.
"Unless Mr. Creepy has given you x-ray vision, you won't be viewing anything," she taunted as she walked to the bathroom. She pushed the the door almost, but not completely closed behind her. She stripped off her t-shirt and quickly splashed some cold water on her face. She dried her face and ran a comb through her hair before slipping on the red silk blouse.
"That's kind of a scary thought, isn't it?" Cuddy exited the bathroom, finishing up the last couple of buttons on her blouse. "How much do you think Mr. Creepy or his minions can see?"
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He watched Cuddy looking at him, before following her with his eyes as she moved across to the closet. Was he going to regret this later? Probably. He was already forseeing an argument breaking out at the dinner table over something, because she got defensive at things he said, and he got defensive at things she said. He stood a little straighter, asserting to himself in his mind that he was going to at least attempt to get on with Cuddy, even if it was just for tonight, for half an hour.
When she said he wouldn't be viewing anything, House gave a mock disappointed, "Damn." As she got dressed in the bathroom, House's attention turned to a set of drawers near him, which he took liberties in opening the top one and peeking in to see what Cuddy had stashed in there. Underwear. He snapped to attention and quickly shut the drawer again when Cuddy headed back out of the bathroom.
"Hmmm," he mused to her comment about the Bellboy being able to see people in the Hotel. That hadn't really occured to House before. Boy, he didn't like that idea; the Bellboy and staff being able to watch his every move.
"I don't know," he honestly replied, frowning. "I'm not sure I like the idea of being subject to Big Brother against my will. I think that's one of those things you're not supposed to think about, unless you're actively seeking to become a basketcase bourne out of sheer paranoia."
He didn't want to think about that, though. House frantically searched for something to say to change the topic as he opened the door. "You look nice," was the first thing that came out of his mouth, and he then grimaced at his own words.
He opened the door wide for Cuddy, and shooed her with his cane hand. "Come on, out," he added impatiently.
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She didn't want to think about how the hotel knew as much as it did about her either. It made her deeply uncomfortable to think of her privacy being invaded that way. She grabbed her room key, ready to leave, and nearly laughed out of surprise when House complimented her. Especially since it wasn't followed by some lewd come-on. Puzzling over his attitude, she simply exited her room and let House close the door behind them.
They were both silent as they walked along the hallway. Cuddy was too busy trying to figure out House's motives. There had to be one; he wouldn't be nice to her without a reason. She snuck a glance at him, but his expression was unrevealing.
"So," she said, simply to break the silence. "The Oxycontin, is it working okay?"
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He didn't want to talk about whether the Oxycontin was working or not, or about his drugs or Vicodin or anything like that. It had been bad enough trying to get his mind off it all day, unsuccessfully, and if he wanted at least a part-way civilised dinner with Cuddy, talking about his drugs wasn't going to go in favour of either of them -- considering how easily defensive he got about it, and how easily angered she got about his drug dependency. Besides, he had another twelve hours ahead of him before he could get his next dose. Yeah, he didn't want to be thinking about anything pertaining to medicinal pain relief.
House was aware that Cuddy was sneaking glances at him. He could only deduce that Cuddy was perhaps suspicious of his intentions. After all the unrest between them, it was a little sudden that he was attempting to be pleasant, if only for a short period of time. But what did she seriously want? Someone to talk to, and now House was making an (awkward) conscientous effort, she didn't like it? The uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them as they headed for the elevator was starting to aggravate him; if she was going to treat him with utmost suspicion for the duration of their dinner, then he was going to land himself on the defensive side quick and fast.
When they reached the elevator, he thumbed the down button and then looked squarely back at Cuddy. "Look, if you've got a problem with having dinner with me, then now's your chance to bail out."
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But she wasn't his boss any more, and she no longer knew what the rules were. She didn't even know that the 'rules' were between her and House any more.
Cuddy leaned against the wall, looking at House. "You don't do things because it's polite or socially acceptable. So forgive me for wondering why you'd ask me to join you for dinner in the first place."
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And while it had occured to him that maybe if he tried being nice to Cuddy he might be able to bribe her into giving him more pills, he quickly dismissed that idea. Considering how adamant she was being about his medication, he doubted she'd cave and she'd probably see through that pretty quickly, especially now she was on guard with him. So, for once in House's life, he was being nice-ish to Cuddy without an ulterior motive. He didn't want to explain any of that to her, though.
He looked back to Cuddy with a wry expression on his face. "Maybe I'm just test driving that statement you made about being fun," he replied. "There's not a lot of fun to be had around here, so why not see what you have to offer."
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Well, wasn't she hard up, too? For fun that was. If she were honest with herself, fun had been lacking for even longer than she'd been trapped in the hotel. She wasn't happy about that fact, but it was a fact.
The smile stayed on her face, though. She didn't really know why she found it amusing, except that it felt like normal House behavior for him to seek out entertainment of any kind.
"Hope you weren't expecting me to dance on the tables or something. I'd have to be pretty drunk to be that much fun." Cuddy pushed off where she was leaning against the wall as the elevator arrived. "Besides, they don't have any decent 'dancing on the tables' music around here."
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And truthfully, House was interested to know what kind of 'fun' Cuddy could be, seeing she'd made that statement. So, he supposed the reason he gave wasn't an out and out lie. Her buying the reason he gave, however, was good enough for him. He even gave her a brief smile in return.
"Get drunk enough, it won't matter if there's any music or not," he replied as he followed her into the elevator. He hit the ground floor button once inside the elevator and then looked back to Cuddy, now with an expression of amusement on his face.
"I've always thought you needed to cut loose once in a while. If dancing on tables is your idea of cutting loose, I'm not going to stop you. All the more entertainment for me."
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She came back to herself with a start, realizing that it had been even longer since House had been able to dance. He probably didn't want to be reminded of what he couldn't do.
"Or gambling. They need a casino in here." Cuddy gave House a challenging look as the elevator arrived on the ground floor and opened. "I'd beat the pants off you at poker."
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He leered at her, though in a good natured way and followed her out of the elevator when the doors opened. He'd dismissed the comment she made about dancing -- that wasn't something he particularly ever enjoyed, anyway. Slow-dancing was about as much as he could manage these days, and that was something he definitely felt uncomfortable doing. So, in the grand scheme of what he could and couldn't do, he wasn't too bothered that he couldn't really dance anymore. Wasn't something he greatly missed, anyway.
"But you're right," he continued. "They do need a casino in here. Something bright and flashy, Vegas-style casino. Don't know how it would work, though, seeing no one earns any money in here. So, the novelty would last only as long as people's remaining dollars do."
Reaching the function hall, House grabbed the handle of the door and pulled the door open for Cuddy. "After you."
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House was right; gambling was only fun if you had something riding on the outcome. With no real monetary system in the hotel, gambling would be just another pointless way to waste time.
"Billiards? Darts? Drag racing?" Cuddy suggested. She gave a puzzled shake of her head. There had to be some form of fun around here. A thought occurred to her then. The clinic had 'appeared' only when she went looking for it. Maybe they simply needed to go looking for fun, some kind of diversion.
She glanced at House. "Things seem to show up around here when you need them. I'm wondering...maybe we'd find some entertainment if we specifically went looking for it."
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