Cuddy was vacuuming the closet in the hallway when she thought she heard a knock right beside her. She turned it off and opened the door, looking at the unfamiliar man on her doorstep. "Uh, hello?" Cuddy asked.

"Hi. I'm, uh, looking for Greg House," he said uncertainly.

Cuddy sighed and mounted the small cleaner. "Yes, he is alive," she grumped. "And yes, if you record me I will kick your ass."

The man genuinely looked confused. "Uh, Stacy Warner sent me to his apartment for her things...Some guy saw me on the surveillance cameras and told me to come here."

She smiled at him, still thoroughly confused. "Wait here," she said, and shut the door in his face. She turned and walked swiftly through the living room and up the stairs. "House," she called. "House, you have a guest."

His face poked out of their bedroom. "I'm not here!" he whispered loudly.

"Stacy sent him. Well, Stacy and the surveillance camera guy?"

House looked at her a moment longer, then smiled and grabbed his cane. "Must be another part of his prank. Go tell him I'm a cripple. I'll get there when I get there."

She left, and he limped after her. He was halfway down the stairs when the stranger followed Cuddy into her living room. "Look, whatever you're doing, don't get her involved," House called. "He wants me."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but Stacy wants her things back."

"Aw. Poor you. Stacy's things are at the address you just left! Looks like we're both getting played."

"Or maybe just me. Look, can we do this? I have to sign for it. And frankly her daughter terrifies the crap out of me."

Cuddy looked at House and shrugged. "I think it's legit."

House limped forward, feeling irrationally angry. "She wants her things? She can have them. I hate that stupid pink bear anyways. Always put it on my pillow and the stupid thing always..." His voice faded as he limped out the door.

The man looked at Cuddy. "Thank you, ma'am," he said, and she nodded. He followed House outside. He was sitting on his motorcycle and mounting his cane. "Whoa, wait, I can give you a lift!"

"And bring me back? Or do you have a long drive ahead of you?"

The man nodded and got in his car. House waited for the headlights to wash over him, then peeled away from the curb and down the road. Lingering in the doorway, Cuddy watched his illuminated form speed off as though she had been weighing him down.

House turned and looked at the delivery man in anticipation. "Okay. You lured me back here. Now whatever you do to me will be caught on camera, so come on. Do your worst."

"Really, sir, I'm here for Ms. Warner's things. I have a list." He pulled it out of his pocket. "Uh, the ivory comb and mirror. The red heels. The...uh," he cleared his throat. "Underwire bra. The pink bear, and the jewelry box."

House moved towards the bedroom, and could hear the man walking after him. Entering the bedroom, House hunted down each item. He packed the comb, the heels, the bra and the jewelry box without trouble. Picking up the mirror, he scared the delivery man by suddenly ramming the reflective side into the corner of his dresser, giving it a spiderweb crack. He threw it into the box and picked up the bear. And tore its head off, throwing the body and head into the box. "Continue."

"I don't want to."

House reached over and snatched the list. He studied it for a moment, then locked eyes with the nervous delivery man. "Oh, relax," he said, "You're just the messenger."

Maybe it was the constant clanging as House reorganized the cutlery drawer. Maybe Chase hadn't heard a thing, and had just seen him. Whatever the case might have been, the Skype ringtone suddenly floated through the living room. House looked at the camera he'd spotted while showing the man to the front door. He strode to the computer and answered the call. "What's your angle?"

"No angle. I already got you."

"Then what?" House growled. "What do you want?"

"House, I know. I know why that man was there and I know you're mad, but...I don't know if you're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Exactly! Why wouldn't you be? You're getting married to the woman of your dreams, and nothing should stand in the way of that," Chase said, as House limped a little off to the side. "You've got so much to look forward to together, and I—" Suddenly House had raised his cane, and Chase grew very quiet, staring at the screen. "House," he finally said, in a low voice. "That is a very expensive computer. And it's yours."

"The surveillance cameras are yours, right?"

Chase grimaced as House swung his cane, knocking out the camera above the computer. As the debris rained in front of the webcam, Chase opened his eyes and peered inquisitively at House.

House leaned closer to the webcam. "Spying is for sissies," he said, and turned Skype off.