Chapter 38
Roz set her things down on her makeshift desk. It was 8:30. No sign of House. She peered behind many of the white boards to make sure while Natasha nestled under the table/desk.
She was entranced by the notes on the boards. She grabbed a notepad and started making assumptions. She hadn't felt this alive in a long time. There was only one hurdle to overcome, and she hoped House would help her.
Dr. Hadley opened the door between the conference room and the office. "Coffee's on, if you want some."
"Thanks." Roz joined her, a little hesitant to cross the threshold into what Dr. Cuddy referred to as 'Doctor Land'.
"It's safe. No heavy duty diagnostics happening yet."
"What time does House usually make it in?"
"Anytime between ten and three."
"So much for keeping a schedule." Roz grabbed a mug and thanked Remy before heading back. She spent the better part of the morning combing through their combined notes.
House arrived around ten thirty, abruptly stopping just inside the office door. He surveyed the room, stunned by how much was taken over by Roz. Hopefully there was enough room for his nap sack and cane. The piles of files cropping up every few feet were like land mines.
Roz saw him react. It was hard not to. With each obstacle of files, he glared at her.
"I'd appreciate it if you could at least leave me a clear path to my desk," he huffed while leaping over a particularly skewed stack that blocked his ingress to his chair.
"Take it up with Cuddy."
"Cuddy says I've got to put up with your stuff."
"It's not my stuff you're hopping over."
"Then whose files are they?"
"You're behind on your dictation. I'm supposed to transcribe your tapes as you finish them."
House rolled his eyes. "Don't hold your breath."
"So if you're not going to drone on about procedures and treatments, can I bounce some thoughts your way?"
"Give me a second so I can delete my e:mails." House breezed through the message list before finally clicking 'delete all'. "Finished. Bounce away."
"The last congruent thought we had was of chocolate and roses."
"Yep."
"I made a scraping from the cast of the shoe imprint found at the scene. I have a friend at the college lab who will run it through the mass spectrometer."
"What's the hold-up?"
"He won't do it until my thesis advisor signs off on it."
"I thought you were accepted back into the program."
"The professor thinks I may be mentally unstable causing a bias in my research."
House stopped what he was doing. "You're going to stand for that?"
"I've got O'Connor on it. I'm also going to have to interview with a shrink over at Princeton General."
"It sounds a bit hokey to me."
"Doesn't really matter," she shrugged. I can always submit my research as an independent scholar."
"But you won't get the PhuD."
"How relevant is that anyway?"
He could tell she was trying not to let it bother her.
"So I won't teach, won't be able to get my dream job…"
She wouldn't look at him. Greg realized the whole exercise of getting her back on schedule could be futile. He knew what step he was going to take next.