(Untitled)

[badsidemanner]

After getting coffee, but not exactly indulging in conversation, House went across the hall to the infirmary. Stepping inside, he started to prep -- there was a lot to do, and only so many people to do it.

He had bad news to deliver, a berating to give, and -- well, God only knew what else was going to come his way while he made himself available.

Comments

[jianhuo]

How about... nothing?

When most people get sick, everything about them seems to dull, but in the far side of the infirmary, there is red hair, shockingly bright against the white of the bed, the walls, the sheets...

The skin of the woman it's attached to.

[badsidemanner]

It's to this bed that House goes first.

He once asked a class about telling people they were going to die. Wilson was often thanked -- he was kind, empathetic. House? He didn't get thanked, often.

There was no expectations here, anyway.

"Treatment's not working. You're going to die." His voice was low -- respectful enough tha the didn't announce it to the strung out hippie on the other table.

"I can make you comfortable," he added. "Or I can make it end."

There nothing in his eyes, his face, his tone to say that he would judge her for chosing her death, one way or the other.

[jianhuo]

A twitch beneath her eyelids - her eyes are moving, not opening. But her lips quirk - she smirks, vaguely.

Then she opens her eyes, blue on blue and just looks at him.

[badsidemanner]

His lips quirked -- not a smirk or a smile, not wholly. But it didn't last.

"You let me know what you want. Tris and Simon are too pussy, so..." he looked at her, blue eyes steady, gaze unwavering. "Let me know."

[rocketsgrownup]

Beka was in there, rifling through a drawer with one hand, two fingers from the other hand stuck in her mouth. She looked up for a moment to see him and waved before going back to her quest.

[badsidemanner]

"...the hell are you doing?"

You do not rifle through his infirmary! Especially not when he kept the good drugs elsewhere!

[rocketsgrownup]

She reluctantly removed the fingers from her mouth to display a semi-serious cut. By way of ellucidation she offered, "Bandage."

[badsidemanner]

"Sit," he says, and gestures to one of the chairs. "You need stitches. And to not stick an open wound in the festering cesspool of your mouth."

[mushroomdaddy]

There is a new patient for him, currently sleeping the sleep of those who need it badly. He's pale, and thin, and pretty much looks like he's been keeping poor care of himself, the bugger.

[badsidemanner]

Oh rapture.

"...one hippy, overextending himself. And smoking dope, also." He sighs, and rubs his face. "Hey, Daddy. You awake?"

Of coruse he isn't. That's why House is waking him up.

[mushroomdaddy]

"Enh?"

Daddy's eyes open, slowly, and he moves to rub the eye crud out, but even that looks like hard work.

"Woah."

He croaks out.

"What'm i'doin'ere?"

[badsidemanner]

"Got me. What happened?"

Hey, he wasn't here when you arrived. And they don't exactly have charts.

[elder_fray]

And, because today her mun's internet works a lot better than yesterday --

Erin's just got a (strong) headache, really, and a cold cloth could've helped just as well as whatever they've got working as painkillers these days (presumably it's Motrin, something that's outdated by her time), the simple act of being in an infirmary helps.

It's psychological.

"Hey," she offers. "Mind if I just sit a minute?"

[badsidemanner]

House glances over, having just left Natalie alone with her thoughts.

"Suit yourself. Couch is right there."

[elder_fray]

Erin does so, barely moving but to make sure that her gun, which has recently been cleaned and is catching the light in a 'shiny look at me' sort of way, is still situated.

It's around that time that she gets the idea.

"You know much about law, Doc?"

[badsidemanner]

"I know that if I fight the law, the law wins," House said. "And I used to bang a lawyer. Does that count?"

He puts things so charmingly, dosen't he?