Pianos and prostitutes.

House snorted into his drink. He never thought he'd hear those words spout off Cameron's tongue so glibly.

And then she convinced the others—Foreman, Chase, and a gaggle of nurses—to hoist George onto the MRI.

Impressive.

Puzzling.

And then she stood up to Cuddy for it. He had reacted with his usual snark to cover his surprise: "Who knew that being bloated and bitchy could actually come in handy?"

Of course he hadn't really thought that was why she behaved as she did. That was too easy, and if there was one thing House was sure of, Cameron wasn't easy.

He snorted into his drink again and paused to listen as the pianist played a slow jazz piece. It provided a soothing counterpoint to his ruminations. He tapped the bar with measured beats in accompaniment, still annoyed that Wilson hadn't wanted to play the game.

"It's probably her mom, I bet she's huge. She's from the Midwest."

Wilson looked up. "And who are we talking about? You know, just in case you need me to chime in and tell you you're a lunatic at some point."

"Cameron. She's lying, destroying hospital equipment, telling Cuddy off, got to find out where she got the Fat Scratch fever." He meant it; the whole thing was making him twitchy.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Yeah you definitely better get to the bottom of that. I heard Cuddy gave you the name of a lawyer."

"Or it could just be pity, she feels guilty about being born beautiful so she overcompensates by being nice to ugly people. Would explain why she gets along so well with you."

Wilson sighed. "From what I hear, the patient reminds her of you, not me. Call the lawyer."

"Cameron sees a clump of dirt and she thinks of me."

And later, when House tried to blow her off with a butt plug joke, she figured out that he had gone to see a lawyer. House frowned. Cameron knew him a little better than he expected or was comfortable with.

"What did the lawyer say?" She shrugged off his stare. "I looked up butt plug in the legal dictionary, what did he say?"

And finally, he diagnosed George. And he and Cameron had a talk…of sorts.

"All right, I give up, who was it? Who in your family had the weight problem?" He hated that he had to ask point blank but his need to know was distracting him and throwing him off his game.

A small smile tilted her mouth. "You think I can only care about a patient if I know someone else who's been through the same thing?"

"You care for everybody. You only lie and stand up to Cuddy for a few."

She tossed it back. "You lie for everybody and only care about a few."

"You're avoiding the question."

Cameron shrugged. "I like damaged people, remember? Explains everything I do."

"Almost everything." House stared as she grinned. "Wasn't you, was it?"

Cameron let her grin widen, letting him see how much she was reveling in having the upper hand. "Does it matter?"

"Nope, but it'd be interesting."

She headed out the door, tossing over her shoulder, "Sorry to disappoint you, sometimes the answers just aren't that simple."

Which is how he now sat at this bar, listening to jazz he could be playing at home, after he had unfolded a slip of paper left on his desk.

Drinks 7 pm at Angelo's.

"Figure me out yet?"

The cool, amused voice broke his concentration. He glanced at her and signaled the bartender as Cameron slid onto the nearby stool. She ordered a beer and he winced.

"Beer and scotch do not go well together."

"Oh, were we thinking of mixing them?" She ran her tongue over her upper lip while he stared.

"What's gotten into you?"

Cameron laughed. "Just thinking of the odds." She nodded her thanks to the bartender and took a long pull at her beer.

"The odds of what?"

She sighed. "You've been running out of control, House. And George was like a worst-case scenario of that."

"Oh, I see. And this mirror image of George is supposed to be my wakeup call? You want to suggest I give up the piano and prostitutes?"

"No." House stared at her, shocked, and she qualified, "Well, the prostitutes, yes, but that's not what I meant. George was your mirror, House. I'm just wondering when mine is going to walk in."

Interesting.

"And what will we be treating her for?"

Cameron grinned saucily. "You'll have to wait to find out." She sobered quickly. "You're the most visibly damaged, House. But not the only one who's damaged."

"Yes, because beautiful, young widows are all about the pain." The words tasted like bile the second he spewed them out. Why in hell did he always have to strike to hurt? Any minute now, she'd finish her beer, give him a sad look and walk out the door.

Except…she didn't.

He finally looked up from his drink.

"Yes, House, I'm still here." Cameron looked at him in equal measures of exasperation and patience. "Why did you agree to have drinks with me?"

"I didn't actually agree."

"No, you just showed up. For you, that's agreement. Why did you?"

He shifted uncomfortably on the stool. "Might as well drink here as elsewhere. My place is a mess."

"Yeah, I heard." She frowned but didn't follow up on that line of conversation. "The fact remains, you're having a drink with me. Is the lure of the puzzle that strong?"

He stared at her mutely.

She smiled and shook her head. "So, I have to keep my secrets for you to be interested? Does that include sex?"

He choked on a mouthful of scotch. "What?"

"Well, for example, if I kiss you right now, would that destroy the mystery, the question of what it would be like?" She slid closer. "Or would it add another layer, give more depth to the puzzle?" She leaned forward invitingly and brushed her lips against his.

Sensation.

Her softness made his nerve endings tingle as her lips teased his and finally he leaned into the kiss and slid his tongue inside her mouth.

Satisfaction.

House tasted the beer overlaying the taste that was simply Cameron, and gripped her hip with one hand while the other remained on the bar. His tongue rolled hot and wet around hers before stroking long and deep. He dragged her breath into his mouth as his body reacted and gauged how far he could take this. He felt no hesitancy on her part, no refusal, just eagerness to match his exploration, a faint, shivering agreement.

He broke off the kiss and stared into her eyes. Her gaze was slightly unfocused, her face flushed, and he suddenly saw the brief beginnings of how she'd look in his bed.

He cleared his throat. "I thought I told you beer and scotch don't go well together."

Cameron stared back. "Just think of it as another piece of the puzzle."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I could have ordered a scotch, House. That would have been like you. And predictable. But with the beer…" her voice lowered to a murmur and her hand caressed his thigh as she continued, "you…didn't…see…this…coming."

His body tensed and he glanced around the dimly-lit bar. "Do you want an arrest record now?"

"Mmm." She pretended to consider it. "I think I can do without. Too bad your place is a mess, though. Of course, we could always go to mine."

He smiled suddenly, a shark's grin, and she floundered. "You're not going to get your answers so easily—if at all."

"Give me time," he said.

He stood and waited while she dropped some bills on the bar and they headed toward the door. She grinned at him over her shoulder. "A hundred bucks say you won't figure it out."

His hand touched her lower back and eased down. "I'll take that bet."