This one isn't connected to the first chapter. It's a little angsty, but it's still focusing on House and Wilson. This chapter emphases on the word 'bottle'. Last chapter's word was 'accuracy'. This one's super short.
Shake, shake, shake. The bottle flips along the callouses of his hand. The dirty orange glint casts a hypnotic shadow. Shake, shake, shake. The cylindrical shape tilts as the woman in the tiny top berates the man. She's screaming at him to push through his clinic hours. Shake, shake, shake. A stone white tablet tumbles into his palm. Another hand smacks his wrist, and the tablet flies into his awaiting mouth. Swallow. He shakes his head and pockets the bottle. His eyes widen as the medicine takes effect. His bloodstream is on fire, but the pain in his leg evaporates.
Shake, shake, shake. The bottle flips along the callouses of his hand. A room of ducklings watches anxiously as the bottle's match twirls in the opposite hand. The cane. Steely black with flames erupting from the end of the stick. Shake, shake, shake. The cane flies, and it's caught by the duckling with the messy hair. He nearly spills his coffee as the older man grabs the magic marker and circles a possible diagnosis on the board. Shake, shake, shake. A stone white tablet tumbles into his palm. Another hand smacks his wrist, and the tablet flies into his awaiting mouth. One duckling is impressed. One is alarmed. One is bored. Swallow. He shakes his head and pockets the bottle.
Shake, shake, shake. The bottle flips along the callouses of his hand. He lies on the couch in the dark. His leg is throbbing in pain. His best friend is hard at work just a few feet away. Might as well be a few miles away. He can't see what's changing in his friend's body. In his mind. Shake, shake, shake. The pain is bearable, but the feeling is heaven. Or would be if he could believe in God. Maybe it's Nirvana. He needs a friend, not another pill. His body is changing. It acts as its own accord, without checking in on the mind. Shake, shake, shake. A stone white tablet tumbles into his palm. Another hand smacks his wrist, and the tablet is caught in mid-air. Wilson is standing there with knowing eyes. He slips the tablet into his pocket and beckons for the bottle.
House relinquishes his hold on the captive. Wilson silently judges how much is gone. How much his best friend must have ingested in one day. He taps the bottle and seemingly runs through calculations in his head. Shake, shake, shake. His head has the nervous tic again. He pockets the bottle. One hand gives away the cane. The other is an offer of help, not weakness. House grumbles to himself, but he accepts the offer. When House is pulled to his feet, Wilson remains close by for stability.
"Let's go home."
I warned you it was short.