Chase is in the bar tonight. There's a cup of hot coffee in his hands; occasionally he takes a sip. There's a red welt--a bruise, actually--on the left side of his face, and he looks like he hasn't really been getting much sleep, but overall, he's in a pleasant mood ( Read more... )

He has the bottle of pills Doogie wroe for him in his pocket ( Read more... )

"Maybe some of these have someone else's name," Tritter shook the bag, pills rattling, echoing in his mind. "Or a forged perscription. But yu wouldn't do that," Tritter leaned in just the slighest bit. Scent of his nicotine surpessing gum flaring House's nostrils. "Right ( Read more... )