[The screen clicks on to a close-up of a
bottle, cold condensation still clinging to the tinted glass. The image recedes - as the network device is set back on the table - and shows the drinker, sitting in what looks like one of the booths at the Blue Light.]I've put my card behind the bar. First round's paid for anyone who can tell me what we're
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[Sometimes, Wilson, you take things just a little too literally. Chase isn't in a place where he wants to let himself dwell too deeply on anything said, true or not -- and he wouldn't argue with the truth in it. The bottle clinks against another, perhaps a second, and he catches a breath after swallowing.]
I thought you were referring to being joined at the hip with House. Did somebody say I might be dead?
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I'll buy you one.
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[She had every right to be; he was concerned, too. The fact of her worry is quietly filed away, for now.]
I know. Still, you should come down. I'm not going to make you sing.
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