"For your information, I wasn't sniffing her crotch," Wilson told House as he joined him by the counter to make coffee.
"The more you deny something, the more it reveals the truth about you," House snorted. He spooned some coffee grounds into a cup, then handed the jar across to Wilson to help himself.
"I wasn't," Wilson exclaimed quietly, hoping no one else could hear the conversation.
House scooped two heaped teaspoons of sugar into his coffee, stirred hot water into it and tossed the spoon into the sink. "Keep telling yourself that," he said, giving Wilson a pointed look before he headed over to the table where Cuddy was. Wilson was close to follow and House gave Cuddy the barest hint of a smile when he felt her hand on his knee.
"Of course they do," he replied to Wilson sarcastically. "Nothing's more fun and entertaining than playing board games, doing arts and crafts and kicking a soccer ball that you can't actually join in and kick around."
Wilson sipped his coffee and put it down on the table before crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't sure if House was being deliberately disdainful towards because being in this hospital was hardly any fun, or if he was just being typically disdainful of other people's idea of fun in general. Either way, it was fairly typical response. House usually wasn't having fun unless it was at someone else's expense or involved something out of the ordinary, usually pissing someone off. Being in such a sedate surrounding as a psychiatric hospital was hardly going to be that entertaining.
In fact, Wilson wondered how House hadn't gotten bored out of his mind yet from the sheer lack of stimulation, or the kind of stimulation he required in order to curb his restlessness. Then again, House had hardly presented himself as his typical self. He himself had been pretty sedate, flat, lacking the spark that made him House.
"Fine, let me rephrase," Wilson said. "What do you do for entertainment in here? Besides dissecting everyone's psyche and no doubt trying to find some way to sneak out of all your therapy sessions."
House raised his brows, sniffing. "Don't know. Guess you got me pegged." He sipped his coffee and slipped his hand over where Cuddy's was still on his thigh. He shrugged. "This place isn't exactly Vegas. I get bored. I read. I eat. Watch TV when some other moron isn't hogging it. Stay in my room. Wander. Get put in time out every time I try playing hookey to my therapy sessions."
no subject
"The more you deny something, the more it reveals the truth about you," House snorted. He spooned some coffee grounds into a cup, then handed the jar across to Wilson to help himself.
"I wasn't," Wilson exclaimed quietly, hoping no one else could hear the conversation.
House scooped two heaped teaspoons of sugar into his coffee, stirred hot water into it and tossed the spoon into the sink. "Keep telling yourself that," he said, giving Wilson a pointed look before he headed over to the table where Cuddy was. Wilson was close to follow and House gave Cuddy the barest hint of a smile when he felt her hand on his knee.
"Of course they do," he replied to Wilson sarcastically. "Nothing's more fun and entertaining than playing board games, doing arts and crafts and kicking a soccer ball that you can't actually join in and kick around."
Wilson sipped his coffee and put it down on the table before crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't sure if House was being deliberately disdainful towards because being in this hospital was hardly any fun, or if he was just being typically disdainful of other people's idea of fun in general. Either way, it was fairly typical response. House usually wasn't having fun unless it was at someone else's expense or involved something out of the ordinary, usually pissing someone off. Being in such a sedate surrounding as a psychiatric hospital was hardly going to be that entertaining.
In fact, Wilson wondered how House hadn't gotten bored out of his mind yet from the sheer lack of stimulation, or the kind of stimulation he required in order to curb his restlessness. Then again, House had hardly presented himself as his typical self. He himself had been pretty sedate, flat, lacking the spark that made him House.
"Fine, let me rephrase," Wilson said. "What do you do for entertainment in here? Besides dissecting everyone's psyche and no doubt trying to find some way to sneak out of all your therapy sessions."
House raised his brows, sniffing. "Don't know. Guess you got me pegged." He sipped his coffee and slipped his hand over where Cuddy's was still on his thigh. He shrugged. "This place isn't exactly Vegas. I get bored. I read. I eat. Watch TV when some other moron isn't hogging it. Stay in my room. Wander. Get put in time out every time I try playing hookey to my therapy sessions."