(Untitled)

[misanthrope_md]

The last time House had gotten drunk at the Winchester he'd ended up taking home a hot girl with good intentions but a serious lack of follow-through. This time it wasn't because he was expecting similar results, but rather for the simplest reason of all: His leg hurt

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[patration]

Upon seeing a limping man on the cusp of losing his balance, Zhuge immediately moved to the man's side, wrapping an arm around the man's shoulders and nose wrinkling slightly from the heavy scent of alcohol. He was not unfamiliar with men who stole time away from their days to drink, who got lost in the haze and warmth that a shot or two would provide them, and as far as Zhuge was concerned, an adult's choices were his or her own to make.

But that didn't mean that he would have enjoyed watching the man make a faceplant into the dirt.

"Careful," he remarked, brow arching lightly. "It look like you need a map to find home."

[misanthrope_md]

House blinked in surprise at the stranger apparently trying to help him keep upright. He wasn't that drunk. Well. Quite that drunk.

"Nah," he said, "it's right there." And he pointed. You could actually see the edge of his hut around the big tree.

[patration]

The fact that there wasn't too much of a slur to the man's words was encouraging. Perhaps the weakness that Zhuge had sensed in the step was for some other reason, rather than the alcohol, and with a small and apologetic smile, Zhuge stood to full height, gradually removing the physical support that he was trying to offer the other man.

"Do you need help in getting to house?" he asked still, figuring that there was nothing wrong with being gracious, even when the help wasn't necessarily anything of a dire need for the man.

[misanthrope_md]

"Probably," said House. "And you need help with your articles. What is it you actually speak? Mandarin? I can speak Mandarin when I'm sober."

[patration]

"Mandarin," Zhuge affirmed with a nod, in spite of the fact that he knew his dialect wasn't quite the same, a few key words changed here and there. On the whole, however, it was the closest approximation of the language he spoke, and out of curiosity, he tilted his head at the man and offered a small smile. "So how sober are you, now?"

He'd managed to find a surprising number of people on the island who spoke Mandarin, but Zhuge wasn't about to pretend that the thought of adding yet another to the list didn't please him. While never a very patriotic man, the thought that his friends and their descendents might still see well-to-do lives was a comforting one in their complete absence.

Besides which, he'd never done very well with an inability to communicate.