"I was happy House. A social worker quit, I wasn't going to hire another one, save some money. Then you know what happened?"
House eyes Cuddy leaning over her desk. "I assume it has something to do with me, or I wouldn't be here."
"Then you almost get sued for the third time this year-"
"Fourth."
"Fourth time this year, and the board wants a social worker on all your cases now."
"Oh please, it was just a little mix up."
"A little mix up? He could have died!"
"And I saved his life!"
Their voices have been slowly escalating and House's reaches the peak. A moment of absolute silence follows as they stare at each other.
"She's coming in, House, today," Cuddy says calmly, smoothing her skirt as she sits. "Bowen Harding. Nice girl. You won't be able to break her."
"Oh, we'll see about that. Now, are we done here, or you going to slap my hand some more?"
Cuddy just ignores him, and he takes that as his cue to leave.
He's walking towards the elevator, considering whether or not to hide in the clinic and get the hours done with early when a broad Australian accent assaults him.
"You Dr House then?"
He glances down; the woman does not look like her voice. Her round, heart shaped face is tilted up at him questioningly. Her brown hair is bleached with sun, and poorly curled.
"What, no khaki safari vest?" he quips.
She laughs, glancing down at the blazer and ill-fitting pencil skirt. "Sorry, left it outside with the kangaroo. I'm Bo Harding, the new-"
"I know who you are. Question is, how'd you know who I was?"
"Bloke in HR told me to look for a grumpy bastard with a cane."
He looks at her suspiciously. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"Can't imagine. Just moved down here from Penn. Before that I was Australia."
"Social worker?"
She smirks as they enter the elevator. "Kitesurfer."
"How does a kitesurfer become a social worker?"
She laughs again. "So you diagnose weird illnesses, yeah?"
"And you stop me from killing people."
"Nah. I just make sure they know about it first."
They step out of the elevator, her shoes shushing softly as they hit the ground before her heels.
"Just what I need in my life: another Aussie sense of humor."
They reach the office, all glass and clean lines. His desk is cluttered with superfluous items, but the other room has only papers, books, and coffee. Two figures - a men and a woman - lounge in chairs, speaking in calm voices with quiet hand gestures.
"Everyone, welcome Cuddy's newest spy," House announces, flinging open the door.
"The social worker? Eric Foreman." One of the men stands and holds out a hand.
"Bowen Harding, lovely to meet you." She has a firm grip and a bright smile.
"Allison Cameron, nice to meet you."
"You as well."
"So you're here to make sure we don't almost kill anyone else?" Foreman asks, leaning back in his chair.
"The number of times I've been asked that this morning really makes me think I've got my work cut out for me."
"You really do. Patients don't tend to like doctors when they get things wrong."
"Oh, I dunno. I once dated one after he wrongly told me my femur was broken."
Cameron chuckles. "How d'you get that wrong?"
"Yeah, considering the bone poking out of my shoulder at the time, I have no clue."
The two doctors laugh.
"What about you Chase?" House asks loudly and sarcastically as the door snicks open. "You ever confuse a femur and a humorous?"
"Yeah, actually. I was a resident in Sydney working in the ER and this girl came in-"
"Robert." It only took a moment after the voice began for Harding to turn around, and now she stares.
"-in a bikini…" Chase trails off, mouth open, eyes wide. "What are you doing here?" He's not surprised, or if he is, he does a very good job of concealing it with anger.
Her face moves through a progression of shades: pale to flushed. "I work here now."
Cameron looks baffled. "Do you two know each other?"
"Well obviously he confused her femur and humorous," House says. "Nothing like a pretty girl in a swimsuit to make you forget kindergarten level anatomy."
They were still staring at each other. "You're a doctor?"
"Social worker."
"Hm." His face hardens as he turns to House. "Case just came in. Sixteen year old female with bloody vaginal discharge and intense abdomen pain."
House stares. "Is she wearing a swimsuit? Or perhaps you need a review?"
Chase rolls his eyes. "Not on her period. Also no tumors, no visible tears."
"Also she's sixteen. Even invisible tumors…" House holds his hand out for the file. "You, go make sure this girl's parents can read paperwork."
Normally, Harding would have something to say about how she doesn't work for him, but desperation to escape the room wins out.