Blackjack

"Anyway, say hello to everybody for me."

"Deal us in, Detective."

"Be patient, Dr. House." Tritter deals the cards in front of House, then Wilson, and wonders a bit at catching a glimpse of House's hand on Wilson's thigh. Every so often the touch hikes up Wilson's shirt to reveal a long, angry red scar across the oncologist's lower stomach.

"Why do you keep coming back?" Wilson inquires as he looks at his cards, shielding them from House, who's sitting close enough to cheat. Tritter shrugs.

"Old times, maybe. Say hello to all your old fellows for me."

"Hit me," House cuts in impatiently.

"Anytime, Dr. House."