001 - Video Introduction and Trolling. Ah, how soon it starts.
[Video.]
[House's cabin is a mash-up of the various apartments in which he had lived. It's a mix of the best and the worst of his life up to this point, which is fitting, he supposes. Along one wall there is the sofa that Wilson pissed on, the one he never brought to the new apartment after Mayfield. He had kept that place together, planning for the day Wilson asked him to leave. There was his new bed, the one Wilson had bought for him (at Wilson's place), before they moved together. The walls are hung with his guitars, but the organ is gone. He has a keyboard, the one he had in college, before he bought his piano. House is sitting at the desk, at the computer. He looks tired, and the somewhat diminished color saturation of the feed ages him, but he's been here for a day, reading journals and getting his bearings and has decided this might actually be fun. For now, though, he's not letting on that he's a warden. At least he won't be telling anyone just yet. People may assume, but he just wants to see what happens if he leaves it unsaid.]
Well this is fun... [he leans closer to the screen and the camera] A time-traveling prison spaceship. Even I've got to say that's impressive. [A pause.] By the way, I've been reading your journals. Very entertaining reading.
Anyway, introductions... my name's House. Just House, no first name. Kinda like Cher. I hold the land speed record for the recumbent bicycle, and during my last race I broke the sound barrier and traveled into my own future. Meeting myself there created a temporal paradox, and so the other me - the one you're looking at right now - had to go somewhere, so... here I am! [House is fucking around, but he isn't smiling. In fact he looks very serious, aside from the fact that he's smiling with his eyes.] Nah, actually I killed him with a bike pump, which ripped apart space and time. I'm here to get my metaphorical spanking. [Or not so metaphorical. House looks ever so slightly pleased with himself.]
Let's get a few things of the way. No playing obnoxiously loud music in my neck of the woods after, say, three in the morning. Because that's my job.
I'm also in the market for a new wing-man. No qualifications aside from being insufferably long-suffering. Coming off as slightly gay also helps. Gives me something good to harass you about.
What... else. [Looks around the room.] Oh, did I hear something about a barge poker game? I want in on that.
House out. [Turns off the feed.]
[House's cabin is a mash-up of the various apartments in which he had lived. It's a mix of the best and the worst of his life up to this point, which is fitting, he supposes. Along one wall there is the sofa that Wilson pissed on, the one he never brought to the new apartment after Mayfield. He had kept that place together, planning for the day Wilson asked him to leave. There was his new bed, the one Wilson had bought for him (at Wilson's place), before they moved together. The walls are hung with his guitars, but the organ is gone. He has a keyboard, the one he had in college, before he bought his piano. House is sitting at the desk, at the computer. He looks tired, and the somewhat diminished color saturation of the feed ages him, but he's been here for a day, reading journals and getting his bearings and has decided this might actually be fun. For now, though, he's not letting on that he's a warden. At least he won't be telling anyone just yet. People may assume, but he just wants to see what happens if he leaves it unsaid.]
Well this is fun... [he leans closer to the screen and the camera] A time-traveling prison spaceship. Even I've got to say that's impressive. [A pause.] By the way, I've been reading your journals. Very entertaining reading.
Anyway, introductions... my name's House. Just House, no first name. Kinda like Cher. I hold the land speed record for the recumbent bicycle, and during my last race I broke the sound barrier and traveled into my own future. Meeting myself there created a temporal paradox, and so the other me - the one you're looking at right now - had to go somewhere, so... here I am! [House is fucking around, but he isn't smiling. In fact he looks very serious, aside from the fact that he's smiling with his eyes.] Nah, actually I killed him with a bike pump, which ripped apart space and time. I'm here to get my metaphorical spanking. [Or not so metaphorical. House looks ever so slightly pleased with himself.]
Let's get a few things of the way. No playing obnoxiously loud music in my neck of the woods after, say, three in the morning. Because that's my job.
I'm also in the market for a new wing-man. No qualifications aside from being insufferably long-suffering. Coming off as slightly gay also helps. Gives me something good to harass you about.
What... else. [Looks around the room.] Oh, did I hear something about a barge poker game? I want in on that.
House out. [Turns off the feed.]