House laid down on the deep brown leather chaise-long, his therapist was a woman; he observed as she finished a call on her phone, her high waist green tweed saia with matching jaqueta and high collared white shirt. He had forgotten how much he missed the risqué ness of Cuddy’s wardrobe. House’s eyes narrowed at the smirk that appeared on her face as she twisted the cord around her wrinkled and translucent fingers.
“We have to talk later, I have a patient.” She smiled weakly at the response on the other end, before hanging up and brushing herself off. Her eyes re-focused back on House, who was staring at her, a sense of annoyance was clear on his face. He had spent over a mês at the institution and this was his first therapy session.
“Well, Greg…” House snorted at the attempt of a social conversation, when he knew it was lies. “It’s Dr.House, and I don’t intend to pretend to have a social conversation so you can feel like you are on the same level as your patients. Because the truth is that you’re not.”
The psychiatrist leant progressivo, para a frente slightly, opening up House’s file and adding a few notes, picking up her glasses to read some of his medical notes on the left hand side.
“You have an unusually heavy dependence on a prescription drug, Vicodin. It seems you have the privilege of free floating prescriptions.” House rolled his eyes, before folding his arms. “I am, and always will be, in constant pain. It’s basic human rights to give me them drugs; they help, help me do my job.”
This didn’t seem to wash with the psychiatrist, like it didn’t with Cuddy, most of the time. She let out a long and deep sigh. “Why don’t you tell me about your life.” House, although he had his doubts, felt the need to vent after spending a mês without Wilson. “I work in Princeton Plainsborough. I am head of diagnostics, along with a team I rule over.”
House seemed to think about them all, Wilson would be hiding his fears about him and getting on with work. Foreman and the team would be ploughing on, probably reaching House’s death quota without him. Cuddy, House saved time to think about her, how she would be coping; a blank face, closed off from others trying to control how she felt. House’s mind ran off, thinking about Cuddy either in tears or being stone cold, both seemed plausible, would Cuddy even be talking to Wilson about the whole situation? Or would they be both ignoring each other.
“Dr.House?” House’s focus was deterred por the rosa, -de-rosa sherbet colour of the psychiatrist’s outfit. He must have zoned out for longer than he thought. “Why don’t we start with some of you friends, how do you think they feel right now?” House looked up at the cracked plaster on the ceiling, and he gathered all of his thoughts and tried to pan them for good enough nuggets of information to keep the psychiatrist satisfied, as well as his own feelings at bay.
“Wilson. He’ll be keeping himself busy, probably not thinking about me.” House seemed to shy his face away, since he knew deep down, that Wilson might have already given up on him.
“…My team will be enjoying their unexpected freedom, and most likely killing patients in the process of their party.” House seemed to relax slightly, has raised shoulders fell softly, as his face’s contorted shape whilst he was thinking seemed to smooth out and loosen up.
“How about Dr. Lisa Cuddy. She’s your boss, so obviously she must care. I hear she is a ruthless boss, she must be to take you on board.” The psychiatrist voice became slightly shrill as she said the last few words, obviously hitting a nerve. “What are your feelings towards her?” Unbeknownst to her, she had inadvertently opened a can of worms.
“Employees shouldn’t have feelings towards their bosses.” House sat up slightly, in a half on half off position on the couch.
“But you do.” House looked up at her, the eye contact seemed to unnerve her. “Am I right?” House broke off the stare, and began to rub his leg gently. imagens of her ran through his mind; that smile, them eyes staring straight back at him. Her body language when he was in the same room as her, she was un-aware of how much he noticed.
“It’s human nature to want something you can’t have.” House was surprised at how he was so quick to make an excuse for his feelings for her. The psychiatrist smiled sweetly, she had heard all of this before with all her other patients.
“I didn’t expect a smart intellect like you to make up excuses for liking a woman. It says here in your admittance papers that your hallucinations involved Dr.Cuddy for a large proportion of it.”
House seemed to stay quiet, his unwillingness to speak about what he was hallucinating only hindered his progress further, but he didn’t think that it held any importance right now.
“You changed you’re medical proxy to Dr.Cuddy, a ano ago. What happened with Mrs. Warner?”
House, a wounded soul, found these perguntas to be difficult to think about, but thought answering the pergunta about Stacy would be easier for him.
“Stacy was, she was…close to perfection. I loved her, and then she left.” This statement of emotion intrigued the psychiatrist so much so; she sat up and placed her pointed chin on her pale hand.
“How did you feel about that? Was it hard to mover on?” House smiled sarcastically, but felt the need to speak and talk about it.
“Obviously you wouldn’t know, but yes it was. I got over it. I moved on to new pastures as it were.” House felt his pocket, expecting a bottle of Vicodin to be there, but he bowed his head, it had been over a mês without Vicodin and he had forgotten how much he leant on it.
“How have relationships with other women been? Have you had one since Stacy?” She wrote in short hand, her glasses falling down the extended nose hanging over her mouth.
“Hookers are women, right? To some anyway.” House noticed she had begun to write every word he was saying.
“Do you use them often?” House responded with a quick retort; “Well, they don’t allow hookers to come visit patients in here, so not as often as I’d like.”
There was a slight pause, as the psychiatrist loaded up her arsenal of verbal weaponry. “I spoke with Dr.Cuddy earlier today…” House’s eyes widened, he swallowed a lump lodged in his throat, before listening attentively.
“She seemed to be overly concerned for a normal boss-employee relationship. She is coming to visit during your seguinte visiting hours, maybe it will help you come to a factual realisation.” She smiled, before composição literária some mais notes, and then closing the file. “You can leave now, Dr.House. I’ll see you after visiting hours tomorrow.” House waited a moment, before he got up and left.
Thinking about seeing Cuddy scared him, which was unusual. Was he afraid of seeing her while he was in this state? Or was it mais of a nervous, excited feeling you get when you are waiting in anticipation to see someone you like. House grabbed his thigh, the pain had shot back for a second; but that segundo was painful.
“Just one mais month.” He repeated it to himself whenever he was alone. He needed to get out of here and back home, the constant screaming and questioning about his life was too much for him to take for another couple of months.
“We have to talk later, I have a patient.” She smiled weakly at the response on the other end, before hanging up and brushing herself off. Her eyes re-focused back on House, who was staring at her, a sense of annoyance was clear on his face. He had spent over a mês at the institution and this was his first therapy session.
“Well, Greg…” House snorted at the attempt of a social conversation, when he knew it was lies. “It’s Dr.House, and I don’t intend to pretend to have a social conversation so you can feel like you are on the same level as your patients. Because the truth is that you’re not.”
The psychiatrist leant progressivo, para a frente slightly, opening up House’s file and adding a few notes, picking up her glasses to read some of his medical notes on the left hand side.
“You have an unusually heavy dependence on a prescription drug, Vicodin. It seems you have the privilege of free floating prescriptions.” House rolled his eyes, before folding his arms. “I am, and always will be, in constant pain. It’s basic human rights to give me them drugs; they help, help me do my job.”
This didn’t seem to wash with the psychiatrist, like it didn’t with Cuddy, most of the time. She let out a long and deep sigh. “Why don’t you tell me about your life.” House, although he had his doubts, felt the need to vent after spending a mês without Wilson. “I work in Princeton Plainsborough. I am head of diagnostics, along with a team I rule over.”
House seemed to think about them all, Wilson would be hiding his fears about him and getting on with work. Foreman and the team would be ploughing on, probably reaching House’s death quota without him. Cuddy, House saved time to think about her, how she would be coping; a blank face, closed off from others trying to control how she felt. House’s mind ran off, thinking about Cuddy either in tears or being stone cold, both seemed plausible, would Cuddy even be talking to Wilson about the whole situation? Or would they be both ignoring each other.
“Dr.House?” House’s focus was deterred por the rosa, -de-rosa sherbet colour of the psychiatrist’s outfit. He must have zoned out for longer than he thought. “Why don’t we start with some of you friends, how do you think they feel right now?” House looked up at the cracked plaster on the ceiling, and he gathered all of his thoughts and tried to pan them for good enough nuggets of information to keep the psychiatrist satisfied, as well as his own feelings at bay.
“Wilson. He’ll be keeping himself busy, probably not thinking about me.” House seemed to shy his face away, since he knew deep down, that Wilson might have already given up on him.
“…My team will be enjoying their unexpected freedom, and most likely killing patients in the process of their party.” House seemed to relax slightly, has raised shoulders fell softly, as his face’s contorted shape whilst he was thinking seemed to smooth out and loosen up.
“How about Dr. Lisa Cuddy. She’s your boss, so obviously she must care. I hear she is a ruthless boss, she must be to take you on board.” The psychiatrist voice became slightly shrill as she said the last few words, obviously hitting a nerve. “What are your feelings towards her?” Unbeknownst to her, she had inadvertently opened a can of worms.
“Employees shouldn’t have feelings towards their bosses.” House sat up slightly, in a half on half off position on the couch.
“But you do.” House looked up at her, the eye contact seemed to unnerve her. “Am I right?” House broke off the stare, and began to rub his leg gently. imagens of her ran through his mind; that smile, them eyes staring straight back at him. Her body language when he was in the same room as her, she was un-aware of how much he noticed.
“It’s human nature to want something you can’t have.” House was surprised at how he was so quick to make an excuse for his feelings for her. The psychiatrist smiled sweetly, she had heard all of this before with all her other patients.
“I didn’t expect a smart intellect like you to make up excuses for liking a woman. It says here in your admittance papers that your hallucinations involved Dr.Cuddy for a large proportion of it.”
House seemed to stay quiet, his unwillingness to speak about what he was hallucinating only hindered his progress further, but he didn’t think that it held any importance right now.
“You changed you’re medical proxy to Dr.Cuddy, a ano ago. What happened with Mrs. Warner?”
House, a wounded soul, found these perguntas to be difficult to think about, but thought answering the pergunta about Stacy would be easier for him.
“Stacy was, she was…close to perfection. I loved her, and then she left.” This statement of emotion intrigued the psychiatrist so much so; she sat up and placed her pointed chin on her pale hand.
“How did you feel about that? Was it hard to mover on?” House smiled sarcastically, but felt the need to speak and talk about it.
“Obviously you wouldn’t know, but yes it was. I got over it. I moved on to new pastures as it were.” House felt his pocket, expecting a bottle of Vicodin to be there, but he bowed his head, it had been over a mês without Vicodin and he had forgotten how much he leant on it.
“How have relationships with other women been? Have you had one since Stacy?” She wrote in short hand, her glasses falling down the extended nose hanging over her mouth.
“Hookers are women, right? To some anyway.” House noticed she had begun to write every word he was saying.
“Do you use them often?” House responded with a quick retort; “Well, they don’t allow hookers to come visit patients in here, so not as often as I’d like.”
There was a slight pause, as the psychiatrist loaded up her arsenal of verbal weaponry. “I spoke with Dr.Cuddy earlier today…” House’s eyes widened, he swallowed a lump lodged in his throat, before listening attentively.
“She seemed to be overly concerned for a normal boss-employee relationship. She is coming to visit during your seguinte visiting hours, maybe it will help you come to a factual realisation.” She smiled, before composição literária some mais notes, and then closing the file. “You can leave now, Dr.House. I’ll see you after visiting hours tomorrow.” House waited a moment, before he got up and left.
Thinking about seeing Cuddy scared him, which was unusual. Was he afraid of seeing her while he was in this state? Or was it mais of a nervous, excited feeling you get when you are waiting in anticipation to see someone you like. House grabbed his thigh, the pain had shot back for a second; but that segundo was painful.
“Just one mais month.” He repeated it to himself whenever he was alone. He needed to get out of here and back home, the constant screaming and questioning about his life was too much for him to take for another couple of months.
