This was written out of boredom. Very short, and rather pointless, but hopefully amusing.

Disclaimer: House? Nope. Wilson? I wish. Junior Mints? No, not even those. I own nothing except my sweet tooth.

"How can you eat these? They're stale."

"They're Junior Mints, not little pieces of bread."

"Little pieces of bread would be better. Those are good stale. Some people call them croutons."

Wilson shook his head at the ridiculousness of the debate. "Why do you care if they're stale?"

"I wouldn't want you to ingest second-rate candy." House paused, thoughtfully. "Why are you eating second-rate candy? Did a pretty nurse not bat her eyelashes at you in the hallway this morning?"

"I was hungry."

"When you're hungry, you eat food. When you're mopey, you eat candy."

"Surprisingly, some people eat things because they want to, House."

House picked up the box sitting upright on Wilson's desk and peered into it.

"One left."

Wilson didn't look up from the paper on his desk he was pretending to pay attention to. "Go ahead."

"But that would take all the fun out of it." Nonetheless, he tipped the last dark brown piece into his palm with practiced ease. Pinching it between his thumb and index finger, he stared at it with a scrutinizing eye. Despite himself, Wilson looked up to see why House had gone so quiet and watched him squeeze the mint until it broke and white…stuff appeared in the cracks.

"Well, that was pointless," Wilson said.

"On the contrary. I was performing a strength test on it."

"And what did you find?"

"It crumples easily under pressure." He scraped the sticky mess off his fingers with his teeth. "And it's still stale."