Author's Note: It is being tested as fire tests gold. –from 1 Peter 1:7 (TLB)

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D., nor its concepts, characters, and setting, but I do love them, especially Chase. This story is for entertainment purposes only and is not meant to take the place of the advice of either physicians or lawyers licensed to practice in your country or state.

The ISMLE Step 3 test was scheduled to take place over the course of two days.

For long and important tests like this, Rob followed a tried and true ritual of his own devising.

No alcohol from 48 hours prior to the start of the test.

At test time minus 33 hours, he went to the gym to workout. Not strength training at this critical time, not stretching, but endurance training, aerobic exercise, to develop stamina, improve heart and lung function, increase metabolic rate, release endorphins and improve mental functioning. It made him both tired and happy.

T minus 16 hours, he took the train into New York. On Mulberry Street was an Australian restaurant where he could eat tender medallions of kangaroo meat garnished with rocket and a side of roasted parsnips. He knew people who refused to eat kangaroo; he'd been one of them, until the night before his GAMSAT test, when his then girlfriend insisted it he try it. It was delicious, and he'd aced the test.

The morning of the first day of the test, he brewed himself a cup of Billy Tea, and took down the jar of Vegemite. It was nearly empty, but he'd hoarded the last quarter teaspoon: half for today, half for tomorrow. He spread the brown paste with surgical precision onto his toast, the merest film of extract over real butter.

Savory.

The tea was strong, and he sipped it slowly. He felt good. Ready.

He put the last bit of toast in his mouth, and drank off the last of the tea.

It was time to go.

Two nights later found him in the pub. The bartender pushed a double shot glass full of amber fluid towards him. "From the lady."

Chase looked over to see Lisa from the bank approaching.

"Hey, there, wallaby, how's America treating you?"

"I've no complaints."

"You take your test yet?"

"Finished it yesterday."

"Think you passed?"

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" Chase picked up the glass and took a tiny sip. Bourbon. His lips curved as he considered her. Beautiful woman.

"You're too modest, wallaby. That's not the way to get ahead in this country."

Chase was silent. He thought he'd done well on the test. He'd felt little to no hesitation about his answers, which was normally a good sign, but he'd no wish to jinx it. He sipped at the bourbon again to cover the fact that he hadn't answered her.

"Is that the way they take a shot in Australia?" she asked, motioning to the bartender to give her a shot for herself. When he set it before her, she picked it up and said, "This is how we do it here," then picked it up and tossed it down all in one go.

Not to be outdone, Chase obligingly raised his own glass, then poured it down his throat.

"Burns, doesn't?" She was staring at his lips, and he wondered if she meant to kiss him right there in the bar.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"But it feels good?"

Chase grinned. "It feels VERY good."

"You slept with a different woman," House announced, as they were looking through some charts Cuddy had sent up.

Chase's brow knit. "You following me, House?"

"I'm smelling a different perfume on you. This most recent lady is buying the good stuff."

It was weird that his boss could distinguish Lisa's perfume from Peggy's, weirder still that he was commenting on it. Yet, maybe it was okay that he was mentioning it, because it wasn't the only weird thing going on.

"House, have you ever had a girl ask you to do something you… weren't sure about?"

House laughed.

"I mean," Chase began, "something that—" He cut himself off abruptly. This might not be a subject to discuss with his boss after all. He looked down at the chart he was holding. "Vasculitis could cause dizziness and hearing loss," he suggested.

"Listen to me, Chase," House advised, ignoring his underling's attempt to change the subject. "If you pay a working girl, like I do, then you can tell her what you want to do, and what you want her to do, with a reasonable chance that she'll do it, unless it's kissing on the mouth."

"I don't—"

"I know, I know, you're philosophically opposed to paying for something that people would pay you for, if you hadn't been lucky enough to have a famous physician father to pull strings for you, push you into medicine, and get you this enviable and esteemed position."

"Look, you don't have to—"

"Apparently I do, because there seems to be something Daddy forgot to teach you."

Chase scowled. "What's that?"

"If you will insist on partaking of the 'free' stuff, then you are the one who has to do what the girl wants."

"But—"

"She's the boss! Capisce?"

"If I had a behind as beautiful as yours," Lisa told him, "I'd walk around naked all the time."

"You do have a bum that beautiful," Chase pointed out.

"No." She wrinkled her nose. "It's the scars that make it. They're very… evocative. Make me imagine all sorts of lovely and exciting things. Are you sure this is your first foray into the scene?"

"Yeah." He rummaged through the second of the two lunchbox sized containers he'd brought along with him. "And it wasn't so lovely getting them."

"Well, it's all a question of your attitude towards— for pity's sake, Chase, you really think we need two first aid kits just to have sex?"

He eyed her uneasily. "We wouldn't need any, if we were just gonna have sex."

"You won't hurt me."

He just looked at her.

"Well, okay, maybe one first aid kit might come in handy, but two?"

"The second one's a burn kit."

"Really?" She came up to nuzzle his neck. "Maybe dating a doctor's not such a bad idea at that."

"How'd it go with expensive Eau de Parfum lady?"

Chase was annoyed and let it show. "You meant you can't smell it?

House's eyes rolled. "You just heard me say 'Eau de Parfum lady,' right?"

Chase stood still a moment, tongue exploring the back of his teeth, trying to think of some way to turn his boss off this personal discussion.

"You know if you don't tell me, I'm just going to keep pestering you."

"Yeah, I know that."

"So?" House looked at him expectantly.

What was it the Employee Handbook Cuddy had made him read his first day had said?

'In your employment at PPTH, you have no expectation of privacy.'

Indeed.

"Waiting," House prompted.

What the hell. "So, I gave the lady what she wants."