Late evening. Amber's dark apartment. She enters, drops her purse on the cupboard and switches the lights on. House is sitting in her swivel chair, twirling his cane around, grinning wickedly at her. She glares at him.

"House, I'm feeling honoured by your presence, but some people are a little creeped out by middle aged cripples breaking and entering their apartments. So, what do you want this time? I don't have on Wilson's shirt and I don't want to work for you. So, just spill it, I want to sleep!"

"Honour to whom honour is due, my dear cutthroat bitch. You're cheating on Wilson!" he stated, observing her reaction. It was just a guess.

She didn't even flinch, instead she smirked mischievously: "Oh, really? Too bad there is no proof of that, even for a god-like diagnostician."

"You might be really clever in hiding your little journey into homo-land, but your little love-nugget is so absorbed in smiling, that she forgets to delete the text messages you sent her." With a broad grin, he produced Thirteen's cell out of his pocket and read out loud, "Told J. I had a meeting. Believed me without asking. Dumbass. Come at 8 to 'celebrate.' Wow, this is a real piece of poetry."

Amber's smirk had faded. Her mouth was a small line, her facial expression a mixture of embarrassment and fury. She hated being caught red-handed. "So what? What do you want to get out of it? Do you want to run back to Wilson and sell me out? What do you think he would do? Cry on your shoulder and search for comfort in a pity fuck? Forget it, House, he wouldn't even believe you. Don't pretend that you care about his feelings." By the end of her answer she was nearly yelling.

"You think that's what I want? I'm glad I did not hire you. That is a really screwed-up diagnostic attempt." He faked a smile, in fact the diagnosis had not that bad. Not that he would ever admit that.

"Maybe I will tell him how much you want to ravish him every time he works late and just the two of you are left alone in the big bad hospital. You are so sweet – composing piano pieces named "for JW" and hiding them in your office drawer under your porn collection." She batted her eyelids coyishly. "Sometimes we're really alike, the only difference is – I get it both ways and you get it neither."

House left the room nearly without noise.

tbc.