House limped into the office to find his table of minions surrounded by his minions. All of them were unfettered by his late arrival. Foreman dove straight into the case they had been given earlier.
"Twenty-seven year old stage actress in a traveling musical theater. She was playing a grand piano before a show when she seized," he recited.
"History of seizures," inquired Thirteen.
"She hasn't got a history of much. For a traveling performer, she's remarkably healthy," said Chase. "The stage lights were low and the house lights were off. She was playing to ease her nerves from an argument she had with a cast mate."
"It's a stage troupe not a traveling circus," said House, flipping through the case file. "Sansterre. One of the most prestigious groups of performers in the country and gaining fame internationally. They've put on shows for every president since FDR."
"And that's relevant because..."
"The lights were low... she was relieving stress... Everything is important. Especially where she's been," he said, tossing his chart across the table at the Aussie before realizing he still needed it. He huffed and leaned on his cane. "What's her name?"
"Elizabeth Low," answered Taub promptly.
Suddenly House's face turned dark and he left the room without another word to his team, who exchanged looks before Chase sighed and pushed away from the table to follow him down the hall. The speed at which House could move when he had some place to go amazed him. House disappeared into the patient room, but Chase and the others nearly rammed into him for he stopped only a few steps into the room. He gazed intently at the patient who was reading.
For a second he just stood there until she looked up at him from under her long, dark lashes with mischievous blue eyes and grinned. "Hello, Greg."