With Cuddy's hand in his, House twined their fingers together and firmly squeezed her hand. Maybe coming outside had been a good idea because he felt less, well, claustrophobic. Seeing the same lime green walls, the same floors, the same faces, the same corridors, over and over and over again - being in the hospital reaffirmed the surreality of the situation, like he really was trapped in an unsettling recurring dream. Outside, though, he could almost pretend he wasn't a prisoner if he focused on the fresh air or the view that spread out away from the hospital building. He could almost imagine he was back where he was supposed to be, in Princeton, walking hand-in-hand with Cuddy somewhere everyday.
Wilson couldn't help noticing that House had reached for Cuddy's hand, either. He couldn't recall the last time he'd seen House express any kind of open affection for anybody, not since Stacy. Holding hands was hardly a huge gesture of affection, either, but it was huge in his eyes when it came to House. He was glad that House had finally found someone to have that kind of openness with, though it reminded him of his own loneliness.
House snorted when Cuddy said about the building being a set for a horror movie. And of course he hadn't seen any ghosts. But he replied to Wilson, "I've seen plenty of trolls. They wear white uniforms and call themselves psych nurses. Like that one over there."
He pointed with his and Cuddy's joint hands towards one of the nurses on the grounds wandering slowly along the path and keeping an eye on everybody. House then tugged on Cuddy's hand as they neared a bench by a tree and started towards that to take a seat. He released her hand and sat down, Cuddy and Wilson taking a seat either side of him.
He lay his cane on the ground and leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees and his fingers laced together. He probably should've worn something a bit warmer for an outdoor excursion. Still, the chilliness that seeped through his clothes at least made him feel a little alive instead of lethargic and sedated.
"So, what have they got you on?" Wilson asked after a short pause of gazing around the hospital ground and quietly observing House.
"Drugs, and not the fun kind."
Wilson exchanged a quick look with Cuddy. He wasn't privy to all the details that led to House ending up in here, but he did know House's battle with Vicodin, even after months of not taking it, was part of the reason he was in the psych hospital.
"Amitriptyline," House continued with a weary rub to his face, oblivious to the look Wilson and Cuddy had shared. "Prazosin. Diazepam." He dropped his hand away and added dryly, "I have to report daily to my doctor about the state of my penis, thanks to priapism being a side effect of prazosin." He mimicked his psychiatrist, "'How's your erectile function today, Greg?'" Then in a mock cheerful voice, he 'replied', "'It's great, thanks for asking! This place really makes me think about getting it up.'"
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Wilson couldn't help noticing that House had reached for Cuddy's hand, either. He couldn't recall the last time he'd seen House express any kind of open affection for anybody, not since Stacy. Holding hands was hardly a huge gesture of affection, either, but it was huge in his eyes when it came to House. He was glad that House had finally found someone to have that kind of openness with, though it reminded him of his own loneliness.
House snorted when Cuddy said about the building being a set for a horror movie. And of course he hadn't seen any ghosts. But he replied to Wilson, "I've seen plenty of trolls. They wear white uniforms and call themselves psych nurses. Like that one over there."
He pointed with his and Cuddy's joint hands towards one of the nurses on the grounds wandering slowly along the path and keeping an eye on everybody. House then tugged on Cuddy's hand as they neared a bench by a tree and started towards that to take a seat. He released her hand and sat down, Cuddy and Wilson taking a seat either side of him.
He lay his cane on the ground and leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees and his fingers laced together. He probably should've worn something a bit warmer for an outdoor excursion. Still, the chilliness that seeped through his clothes at least made him feel a little alive instead of lethargic and sedated.
"So, what have they got you on?" Wilson asked after a short pause of gazing around the hospital ground and quietly observing House.
"Drugs, and not the fun kind."
Wilson exchanged a quick look with Cuddy. He wasn't privy to all the details that led to House ending up in here, but he did know House's battle with Vicodin, even after months of not taking it, was part of the reason he was in the psych hospital.
"Amitriptyline," House continued with a weary rub to his face, oblivious to the look Wilson and Cuddy had shared. "Prazosin. Diazepam." He dropped his hand away and added dryly, "I have to report daily to my doctor about the state of my penis, thanks to priapism being a side effect of prazosin." He mimicked his psychiatrist, "'How's your erectile function today, Greg?'" Then in a mock cheerful voice, he 'replied', "'It's great, thanks for asking! This place really makes me think about getting it up.'"