House aimlessly roamed the halls of Princeton Plainsborough, trying to wrap his head around the strange string of symptom-like phases he'd been experiencing. It'd been another couple weeks or so and the nausea had subsided, but not entirely of course. He was now facing a whole new chapter in this 'fun' roller coaster of a hellish journey .
Now it was as though his metabolism had kicked into overdrive. The staff had broke for lunch and House loaded his tray with just about everything he laid eyes on. He plops it down on the table next to Foreman and Wilson.
"Damn, man.. whudd'cha do, jack a Micky D's or somethin'? Foreman asks, he was somewhat shocked by the amount of food that he had piled on. Between the two double cheese burgers, fries, a slab of pie and to top it off with a triple thick shake, he was certainly receiving some odd looks. "I'm hungry..you got a problem with that?"
Snaps House between a mouthful of burger, which in all aspects was not a pretty sight from Foreman's end. Wilson glanced over to see one lone fry drooped over the trays edge. With the up most prudence he attempted to snatch it when House's back was turned.
Unfortunately, he was a bit to slow, House caught him in the act, he holds his fork a few inches above the tables surface. "You take that fry and you'll be removing this fork from your hand, got it?" Wilson appeared almost petrified with fear and quickly withdrew his hand. He nods his head in understanding and resumes his meal.
After their break had ended, talk began circulating throughout the hospital of House's unusual behavior, aside from his usual despising of all mankind self. Wilson sees House coming his way and heading towards his office.
"House, can you, like hold up a sec?" Wilson asks as he starts walking alongside the malicious diagnostician. "I've noticed you've been acting..well, even more irritable lately, what's up?" House continues walking and looking straight ahead.
"Don't you have some important thing to do, like, ooh, I dunno, check on the frickin' patients and stop annoying the crap outta me?" House was about ready to strangle someone. And if there wasn't so many laws and regulations concerning homicide, he'd probably have done it by now.
He reaches his office and sits down in his chair, his eyes scan the room. Waiting for at any second for Wilson to come through the doorway. And with much relief he must have given up and went off to do whatever, which was fine and dandy in House's book, as long as it wasn't him he was hangin' around.