"Those are my chips," Wilson said.
"Not anymore," House replied thickly as he sat opposite his oncologist friend.
"You know, the register is fifty feet away. You can walk over there and get your own."
"So can you." The older doctor made an over-dramatic show of ripping open the bag.
"Keep it. My treat," Wilson sighed as he pulled the lunch tray closer. "Well, you're in a halfway decent mood. I take it a certain someone has been in touch."
House managed a garbled "Mmmm hhmmm" between chips.
"By email?"
"Yup."
"Am I ever going to get your private email address?"
"No," said House, and tossed a chip at the younger doctor. He knew Wilson only wanted the email address just to have it, but didn't bother to say anything, just sat back and waited to see what his friend was willing to do to get it.
"Why not?"
"It's reserved for people who sleep with me."
"So...you'll let me have your email address if I sleep with you."
"I'll think about it," House smirked, brushing crumbs from his lap. "Are you man enough?"
"Are you?" Wilson narrowed his brown eyes.
"I don't have to answer that."
"Neither do I."
"You have to be this tall to ride this ride, Dr. Wilson."
"I'm up to the challenge."
"And I'm calling your bluff." House didn't flinch.
The younger doctor laughed. "You win."
"Damn right." Chin in hand, House asked, "Because you're not tall enough or because you're not man enough?"
As Wilson tried to come up with a semi-dignified response he noticed his friend's eyes fix on the cafeteria entrance.
"Freeze warning tonight," House muttered, barely loud enough for Wilson to hear.
The oncologist turned to see Cameron in line, piling fruit and other nauseatingly healthy things on her tray. She knew House was there but kept her back to him, as if he cared. After paying, she brushed by their table, not sparing a glance. Wilson was surprised snowflakes didn't trail in her wake.
"Bbbrrrrrrrr," the younger doctor commented after Cameron sat at a table out of his line of sight.
"What's with her?"
"I told her the truth and she didn't like it." House looked bored.
"Wow, what did you say? She really hates you right now."
"She'll get over it."
"What if she doesn't?"
"Then she doesn't. I'm not going to lose any sleep over it." The diagnostician lazily tossed the crumpled chip bag on the tray.
Wilson crushed his empty milk container. "Your people skills are something to behold."
"If I spent all my time worrying about what other people thought of me, I'd never get anything done," House remarked dryly. "And if I spent all my time drooling over every cute girl with a nice ass I'd never get anything done then, either. She's angry because I don't want to play boyfriend and girlfriend. So what am I supposed to do, go over there, hold her hand and lie?"
"No yet," Wilson answered. "You'd probably get frostbite."
House puttered away the rest of the night, munching microwave pizza and watching an almost interesting documentary about the zoo that is called the L.A. Coroners Office. But food and television could only be distracting for so long.
Three more days.
Three days too long.
What if she doesn't come back...
Stop thinking like that! Or maybe you didn't read her last email, the one she signed off with 'I love you'. How soon we forget, idiot.
No, I didn't forget.
Try not to go ballastic.
Easier said than done, Lisa. You're not the one with a major issues about the one you love leaving you.
Okay, it's almost midnight. No more thinking, no more cardboard pizza, no more climbing the walls. Get some sleep.
One last check. Any new emails?
One new message.
House smiled.
