Doctors and nurses were running in and out of rooms, from the nurses' station to the copy room or running towards the elevators. In the midst of it all was a short, bald man with glasses and a distressed look on his face. The man was wearing a brown tweed jacket, a blue shirt and a pair of brown trousers. In his one hand he tightly clutched a briefcase, and in his other was a crumpled up paper with Dr Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine written on it. The man's shoes made a squeaking noise as he walked across the linoleum floor to the nurses station.
"Excuse me, nurse," he said in a nasal voice. "Were can I find Dr Cuddy?"
"You're on the wrong floor," one of the nurses answered. "You need to take the elevator to the next floor, sir." The nurse smiled briefly and hurried past him with a journal in her hand.
The man wandered towards the elevators. Something must have caught his attention and distracted him, because he definitely did not see the man with a bad limp an a cane coming towards him.
"Watch it, buddy," the limping man said and continued talking to the brown haired doctor walking next to him.
The elevator was packed full of people and seemed to move slower than a normal elevator. It was getting warmer, and the baldy man's glasses started fogging up. He took them off and use his shirt to polish them. He adjusted his red tie and took a deep breath. The elevator doors opened, and in front of him was a much calmer area than what he had just seen. There was a glass door with silver writing on it, and he took up the crumpled note to compare. Dr Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine.
The bald man smiled, pleased with himself, and tapped on the glass door. A woman he assumed to be Dr Lisa Cuddy was sitting with her head in her one hand, and the other hand holding a telephone to her ear. She waved him in, but continued her conversation on the phone.
"Tell him no," she said sternly. "I don't have time for this nonsense, House will not be allowed to perform any experimental treatments until I say he can." There was a short pause as a voice answered her on the other end. "Last time? No, no, you see, last time they almost sued." Another pause and Dr Cuddy frowned. "I don't have the time, and the hospital doesn't have the money to handle another one of his cases. The answer is no." She hung up and sighed. "I'm sorry."
"No trouble, no trouble," the man said in his nasal voice and smiled.
"How can I help you?" Dr Cuddy asked politely.
"My name is Edward Walters," the man said and fidgeted a little. "I'm the psychologist."
"You're the psychologist?" Dr Cuddy's eyes looked at the psychologist from head to toe. He was a very unlikely psychologist – nervous, fidgeting, seemingly insecure. "Welcome to Princeton Plainsboro, Dr Walters." Dr Cuddy smiled and shrugged.
"Thank you. When can I start working?" Dr Edward Walters' eyes seemed to sparkle at the mention of work. "I mean, uhm, when can I start analyzing?"
"Right away," Cuddy said and picked up the phone again. "I'll just page Dr Wilson, and you can get started."
