I watch her walk away from me, the sway of her hips and the way her hair falls across her back. For an instant, I catch myself wondering if her hair is as soft as it looks. As I limp back towards my office, I think about how it would feel to run my hands through her hair. That leads to other thoughts that I quickly try to squash. Women like that don't look twice at crippled, middle-aged men like me.
'Stacy looked twice,' a voice whispers in the back of my mind. 'Yeah, but Stacy knew me from before, so she doesn't count,' I tell the voice, snarkily. I sneak a peek at Wilson's office as I walk by and I see a note stuck in the jamb. Making my way over, I pull the note out and read it. At least it's a good one, made it worth my while to check it out.
A feminine hand has written the words, "Addison Montgomery, Taste of Tuscany, 1:30, if you aren't busy.' I pocket the paper, 'I am absolutely not busy… but I'm absolutely sure that Wilson is going to be busy.' He's sort of seeing Cutthroat Bitch anyways, he doesn't need to be seeing the surgeon too. Turning for the elevators, Cuddy rounds the corner and runs headlong into me. She stammers apology after apology as she tries to keep us both from going ass over tea kettle. When she's satisfied neither one of us is going down she looks up.
"Oh, it's you," she curls her lip.
"Next time say it like you aren't happy to see me," I sneer right back.
"Where are you going?" She asks suspiciously.
"I'm taking lunch."
"Clinic hours start in thirty minutes. If you're late again, Nurse Brenda will see to it that you only get the obnoxiously simple cases." Cuddy threatens. Dammit, hot surgeon or good cases? I wheel around and head for the elevators at top speed.
"Tell her to have the tummy aches lined up," I tell Cuddy as the elevator doors slide shut. On the first floor, I get off the elevator and head for the door. Two steps later I am besieged by fellows. All three shove cases at me. I look at each in turn, two I refer to Wilson—just to keep him busy.
"I suppose this might be cancer," Kutner allows as he holds up a chest x-ray, "The Hilar lymph nodes did look a little larger than I thought they should…" He trails off.
"This one doesn't even look like cancer," Taub complains, tromping all over Kutner's train of thought and waving an MRI at me.
"How do you know?"
"There would be symptoms, House. Symptoms don't lie."
"Don't they? So, what… are you an oncologist now? Did you switch your degrees while I had my back to you?" Taub hangs his head, either out of dismay or frustration, I'm not sure which. In moments I've sent Kutner and Taub packing.
The third case shows promise, and I assign Thirteen to get the CBC. 'That ought to take care of everyone for an hour or so.' I think.
I use everyone's sudden departure to high tail it for the door.