Disclaimer: If I owned House, I would toss my teaching certificates in the air and stop whimpering during "back to school" commercials.
To say that Lisa Cuddy was uptight today would be an understatement of mythic proportions. Not that she wasn't uptight everyday, but this morning people cleared a path when she walked by in a way that they normally reserved for the man she had in her scope at the moment. Several people let go of the breaths they had been holding as she ignored their presence and cut a path straight for Dr. House's office.
House noted her entrance but wasn't in the mood for her; Mario was getting creamed. Truth be told, the part of House that wasn't a complete misanthrope wanted to feel a little sorry for her. Unfortunately, that part wasn't as strong as part of him that was more than a little tired of her constant nagging about this particular subject. Hearing the same lecture for two weeks was wearing thin.
Before she could say the first word, he began to speak with forced calmness. "Yes, I know that losing Vogler's money was my fault. Yes, I know that this new guy who wants to give money to the hospital is just as if not more loaded than Vogler. And, yes, I know that you will fry my ass in oil if I screw up again."
She might have been relieved if he hadn't been using a rote, robotic voice for his speech. She might also have been impressed if he had actually looked at her instead of at his Gameboy. She would have even stayed quiet if he had stopped with her repeated threat to cook his ass. This was Greg House, though; he wasn't finished.
"If I may continue the theme of 'asses,' I would like to point out that Vogler was a giant and unethical pain in mine and yours, if you remember correctly. And, although I am not generally know for my sunny disposition, I have no plans to undermine your latest desperate attempt at fundraising."
Cuddy contemplated the cane hanging from the edge of House's desk and, not for the first time, wondered what kind of pain it could inflict. Then again, if she just took it away from him, he would be stuck in his office and she could keep Mr. O'Bryan from meeting him at all. Instead, she just told him the same thing she had been for the past thirteen days, "Just don't be yourself. Try to be human. Try to remember that you are a highly respected doctor with a highly respected team working under you."
Before he could make a snarky comment about his "highly respected team," she interrupted him.
"Please also remember that he will be here tomorrow morning at ten o'clock to meet you and discuss your department. He will also be in attendance at the annual charity gala, which is taking place on Friday." She shook her head in exasperated acknowledgement of the probable futility of her efforts. Still, she continued on. "Shave, comb your hair, and for God's sake, iron your shirt."
With that, she turned on her heel, and marched out into the hallway to try to inflict terror on someone who might actually be terrified of her.
House hit "pause" on the game, placed his leg on the desk and contemplated Cuddy's distress. He knew that this was important; he had a plan. He had been doing his research on O'Bryan and knew what would push this guy's ATM buttons. He realized that the funding of his department was shaky at best. If they could deal with several cases at once, they might actually make money for the hospital. Having approximately one case a week, though, tended to make it look like he and the ducklings didn't do much. Unlike the clinic, the Diagnostics department could only focus on one thing at a time. However, also unlike the clinic, Diagnostics didn't deal with stomach viruses and hangnails.
He was also very aware that the future employment of that "highly respected team" of his depended on this Mr. O'Bryan. Not that they couldn't get jobs elsewhere, but, well, he thought he did a pretty good job of putting together this particular group. They each had their own special ways of annoying the hell out of him, but they did a good job.
Not that he would ever tell them that.
With that thought, he looked up as the prettiest member of that hand-picked team walked in. Her methods of annoying him were a little different than Chase and Foreman's, and the annoyance generally took a much different form. He didn't want to throttle her so much as haul her off to some clichéd deserted island. She said something to him, but his mind was on sunshine and sea air and suntan lotion.
"Dr. House?" Allison Cameron repeated for the third time. God, she hated it when he intentionally ignored her. Right now, he was staring at her with a weird grin on his face that made her squirm. She hated that, too. He played with her for kicks and giggles, and she would like nothing more than to thrash him with that cane.
She forced herself to remember why she was there to talk to him. "Dr. House? Could you at least pretend for a second that you're paying attention to me? I have a question about these clinic hours."
"Hmmm? Sorry, caught up in a dream about drinks with umbrellas and grass huts. What do you want?"
Allison shook her head to clear out the confusion and repeated, "Why have you scheduled me for the clinic all day tomorrow?"
"You lost the bet."
"Huh…?"
"The bet. You know. You thought the girl just had mono. Mutt and Jeff and I had a different idea. You rashly promised to do all our hours one day if we were right. You lost. We won. You're doing our hours tomorrow."
She took half a sigh, cleared her throat, and dragged her eyes away from that cane as she tried again, "Let me rephrase that. Why have you scheduled me for clinic hours all day tomorrow when Mr. O'Bryan expects to meet with all of us?"
"You're not willing to uphold your end of the bet? You know what they do to people in Jersey who don't pay up?"
"I am more than willing to pay up. I just think you might want to have me there tomorrow in the meeting."
"Not particularly."
"Pardon me?"
"You stay in the clinic. The boys and I will deal with this guy." This was really going to piss her off. Served her right for stepping out of his fantasy.
"You and the boys? What the hell am I?"
"Well, certainly not a boy…"
"Not the point. Why shouldn't I be in there just like the rest of you?" Allison felt a monstrous need to pummel him as she anticipated his response. She could see what was coming and if she wasn't arrested for assault when he was done, it would be a miracle.
"I've been doing research on this guy. He's a world-class prick who thinks nothing of bulldozing anyone and everyone who is in his way. I don't think that parading you and all your insistence that the world is a fluffy place full of hidden decency is really the best way to go."
"Oh, for God's…Listen, first of all, I deal with you all day. How much different can this guy be? I am also just as much a part of this department as the 'boys' are. I cannot believe that you would actually cut me out of this because I happen to see some good in people where you can't."
Assault and battery? Attempted murder? Manslaughter? She hadn't been this mad at him in a really long time. Not since she threatened to quit when Vogler started all his crap had she seriously considered inflicting damage. He was making no sense whatsoever. He had to be messing with her. Either that or he was smoking something while he popped painkillers.
"You can't seriously think that I am going to stay in that clinic like some Candy Striper while you big bad doctors talk to the evil billionaire."
"I seriously do think that. Just because this guy is coming in tomorrow doesn't mean that we don't have to do our jobs. People still get sick even in the presence of billionaires. You lost a bet. The clinic needs to be staffed. I need to keep Cuddy off my ass, which means you are working in the clinic." This was getting tricky. She knew that he couldn't care less about the clinic hours.
Allison took a moment to collect herself. House had stood up during his speech and was now standing less than two feet in front of her. Punching him in his wounded thigh? Would anyone blame her?
"What if I refuse?"
"l'll fire you."
"You couldn't fire me when you had the chance the last time. What makes you think you can do it now?"
Thank God she had brothers who were all much taller and meaner than her. That look he was giving her as he loomed over her would have sent her running otherwise. When he didn't answer, she decided to take a different approach.
She calmed her breathing and stated, "I'm not sure what you're up to, but I'm going to pretend that you have a logical argument. You don't – and I think you know that – but let's pretend. Here's another way of looking at this. What if this guy is sick and tired of pissing contests with other manly men? What if, for once he got to deal with someone who actually has some social skills and is not interested in whipping out a tape measure? Don't you think it would be beneficial to have me around?"
Allison had moved toward the door connecting their offices during that speech. Despite her brothers, she felt braver not standing right there where he could stare her down so easily.
"I hardly think the prom queen act is going to get this guy to fold."
"You clearly have had little experience with prom queens." She held up her hand to stop the inevitable nasty comment that was headed her way. "You know, I think you boys should go ahead and try to impress this guy. See how much money you can get off him. But, I have another wager for you."
He raised his eyebrows. She was buying into this?
"I bet a whole week of clinic duty that you will come running to me for help. This guy isn't going to be impressed with your macho crap any more than I am. Not only that, but you at a fundraising gala makes me laugh. You will need me, the 'Prom Queen,' to close this deal with him, and you'll have to admit it because if you screw up this chance for money, well, let's just say that I've heard Cuddy's plans for you."
This was going to be fun. He couldn't resist goading her some more. "Such naiveté in one so young should be refreshing, Dr. Cameron. In you, it's just pathetic. But, in the interest of being right, it's a deal."
Allison gave a quick nod. "Fine." She continued through the doorway, through the meeting room, and out into the hallway.
House limped back to his desk and popped a Vicodin. She was getting too good at this. If he wasn't careful, not only would she become a very tough opponent, but he might find himself unwilling to let her walk out the office door. That trip to the island was starting to sound a little too appealing.
He shook his head much like she had earlier. He had to get back into the correct mindset. He saw Foreman and Chase walk into the conference room, and then it struck him that he had just let two people get the last word. He decided to pick a fight with them to bring his average back up.