After checking on Foreman House was making his way back to his office when he was waylaid by an irate Cuddy.
"Is there any reason why Wilson is having trouble looking me in the eye?" That was typical Cuddy; she always cut through the crap. House estimated the length of hallway between his office and where they stood, judging whether he could make a break for it. Doubtful.
"I may…" he shifted and rubbed his hand through his hair.
She frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest. He could tell she was only a second away from tapping her shoe on the ground impatiently. He smiled.
"I may have discussed your recent adventures in waxing with the friendly neighborhood oncologist."
"House!" Ah, there was the outrage. He loved outraged Cuddy. It usually meant phenomenal makeup sex.
She pinched the bridge of her nose; this was a sign of stage one of the trick-Cuddy-into-being-horny-instead-of-pissed-off plan that he had been perfecting for a while.
He leered at her; that was stage two.
She sighed and grabbed his arm, pulling him into a conveniently nearby supply closet. Stage three.
He never said it was a complicated plan.