Well, he was definitely tired of all the drama in his life. The hurtful drama, that was. The painful drama. All the stuff that had led to him ending up in here. He didn't want sedation. He wanted... well, he wanted a better life than the one he had.
"Except bingo with House would probably turn into an underground organised crime ring," Wilson replied, also trying to keep the tone light. Wilson crossed his arms over his chest. "And the only karaoke I've ever seen House get involved in was under the influence of something that's no doubt heavily banned here. Alcohol, I mean."
"Everything's heavily banned here," House replied. "Including having a sense of humour."
Wilson cocked his head. "Depends on what you mean by 'sense of humour'. Most people don't really tend to appreciate yours."
"My sense of humour's just fine. It's everybody else with the problem."
Wilson shook his head slightly, deciding not to get into an argument with House over the subject. If anything was reassuringly familiar, it was that House was still blaming everyone else for his issues. Well, it was reassuringly familiar but it wasn't exactly reassuring. Wilson had to wonder just how much progress House was actually going to make with therapy, knowing how bristly House was towards psychotherapy and admitting his faults and struggles.
Meanwhile, House picked his coffee up and sipped it, then quickly put the cup back down to reach for the tissue in his pocket again. At the same time, he turned away just in time to sneeze. He sneezed a second time and then a third. "Damn medication," he muttered before blowing his nose. He wiped it a few times, sniffed and stuffed the tissue back into his pocket. "All I need now is something to gag my mouth with, then all orifices on my body would be officially blocked."
He lifted his hand to his head and gave it a rub before he dropped his hand on the table with a loud thump. "So, are either of you going to tell me anything interesting, or are you just going to sit there in awkward silence when you're not attempting to keep the mood light?" he demanded, getting quickly frustrated by the tension he could feel coming from both Cuddy and Wilson. More than that, though, he was frustrated with himself and the fact that he was in here, and how much of a failure he felt he was. That was the one thing the meds couldn't numb. "I'm still the same House, you know."
no subject
"Except bingo with House would probably turn into an underground organised crime ring," Wilson replied, also trying to keep the tone light. Wilson crossed his arms over his chest. "And the only karaoke I've ever seen House get involved in was under the influence of something that's no doubt heavily banned here. Alcohol, I mean."
"Everything's heavily banned here," House replied. "Including having a sense of humour."
Wilson cocked his head. "Depends on what you mean by 'sense of humour'. Most people don't really tend to appreciate yours."
"My sense of humour's just fine. It's everybody else with the problem."
Wilson shook his head slightly, deciding not to get into an argument with House over the subject. If anything was reassuringly familiar, it was that House was still blaming everyone else for his issues. Well, it was reassuringly familiar but it wasn't exactly reassuring. Wilson had to wonder just how much progress House was actually going to make with therapy, knowing how bristly House was towards psychotherapy and admitting his faults and struggles.
Meanwhile, House picked his coffee up and sipped it, then quickly put the cup back down to reach for the tissue in his pocket again. At the same time, he turned away just in time to sneeze. He sneezed a second time and then a third. "Damn medication," he muttered before blowing his nose. He wiped it a few times, sniffed and stuffed the tissue back into his pocket. "All I need now is something to gag my mouth with, then all orifices on my body would be officially blocked."
He lifted his hand to his head and gave it a rub before he dropped his hand on the table with a loud thump. "So, are either of you going to tell me anything interesting, or are you just going to sit there in awkward silence when you're not attempting to keep the mood light?" he demanded, getting quickly frustrated by the tension he could feel coming from both Cuddy and Wilson. More than that, though, he was frustrated with himself and the fact that he was in here, and how much of a failure he felt he was. That was the one thing the meds couldn't numb. "I'm still the same House, you know."