Lost in Translation

let's give a cheer for the oneshot-ness!

'Look, your symptoms in no way resemble viral meningitis because you have a cold. I'm not going to give you antibiotics because they do not cure colds. Go home and rest. Catch up on your daytime television. Speaking of which…'

'But doc-'

'Really. Don't want to hear it-' House paused, hearing something else entirely. He raised his eyebrows at the sulking patient sitting on the exam table, then snuck to the door and opened it a crack so he could see what was going on in the lobby.

'No, you're too young to be a doctor. Just 'cause you wear a white coat, it don't make you a doctor. And for gods sake girl, stop with the English. Speak a real language!'

House grinned, leaning against the door frame and settling down for a really good show. The middle-aged lady was loudly berating Cameron in Spanish, who in turn was politely looking for an escape or a solution, whichever came first.

'Ma'am, if you'll just calm down, I'm sure we can find a translator...'

'Look, young girlie, go find a doctor and tell him my arm hurts, hey? No, I don't wanna follow you. Don't you touch me!' That last part was as Cameron tried to lead the woman towards a free exam room, almost getting slapped for her troubles. The Spanish lady was small, but she had a big voice, and was well inflated with hot air.

'I think I agree with her sentiments,' commented House, making his way over to Cameron. She eyed him with desperate hope, contrasting sharply to the woman's suspicious cynicism. 'You a doctor mister? This little girl here's all snazzed up but she don't know nothing.'

'I don't understand her,' Cameron informed him anxiously, as though her not speaking Spanish was a personal failing.

'There's not much to understand,' House told her amusedly. 'She's mostly just whining about your pretentiousness for putting on a lab coat.'

'You speak Spanish?' Half-surprise, half-hope once more. House rolled his eyes and addressed the woman instead, who was eyeing him suspiciously.

'I do apologise. Her mother was away today so young Cameron here came in to fill in. We'll send her right back to high school as soon as possible, we promise.'

'Oh thank god. Finally someone who speaks a real language. What's with the cane? You some sort of a cripple doctor?'

'It helps me with patient empathy,' House replied, tilting his head towards an exam room in invitation. 'Are you here for a reason?'

'Just a sore arm. I foolishly thought it would be easy to find a doctor in a hospital. Instead I get this young imbecile who don't even speak a real language.'

'That is such a problem these days. What did Shakespeare know anyway?'

'Bah, all the true artists have come from Espana.'

'What's she saying?' asked Cameron as they began to walk away. House paused, rolling his eyes before turning back to Cameron.

'Literary criticism. It figures that the only intelligent patients we get through here are the ones not born in this great country. Go treat some boils.'

The woman watched Cameron's lip tremble slightly, before she nodded and headed back to the waiting room.

'Oh, she's got the hots for you big time boyo.'

'Do you want your arm fixed or not?'

The End.