When Lucas and Cameron dropped by unexpectedly, Cuddy looked more broken than before when she answered; and Cameron thought it could be good or bad. It was about time she passed anger.

Cameron tried to smile at her, and failed. "Can you help us?"

Cuddy opened the door further and stepped back. "So you're not pissed at me?"

"Why would I? I told you, I understand."

Cuddy brushed back her bangs with a relieved sigh. "How can I help you?"

"We need pictures of House. Uh, we're making an art project," Lucas said.

"Why wouldn't you go to Foreman?"

"Well, House and Foreman didn't like talking about their marriage," he joked.

Cuddy's smile was strained; clearly it was still too soon. "Foreman draws and paints," she informed them both, as she used her foot to drag a stool out of the shadows of the closet. She stepped onto it and delved into the darkness consuming the shelf; retrieving a shoe box. "It's heavy," she warned him.

Cameron looked inquisitively at her. "I dated Foreman; I didn't know."

"You probably thought it was a photograph. I did." She surveyed Cameron's displeasure, then put a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder. "If you want your tribute to House to be impressive, talk to Foreman." She kicked the stool back into hiding and lead them into the kitchen. They clustered around the kitchen island and Lucas removed the lid. Cameron's hands were immediately grabbing a stack of pictures. As she liberated them from the box, Lucas and Cuddy looked down at the yearbook photo she had uncovered. House had to be in his twenties, at the most; and he still looked grumpy.

Cameron flipped through the stack she held. And scoffed. "I can use every letter in the alphabet to call him grumpy. Look—angry, bitter, cynical..."

"Oh my God." Lucas retrieved another photo from his childhood. "He looks like me when I was a kid."

"Really?"

"Yeah, one day I'll show you my picture and compare."

"Aw, honeymoon pictures!" Cameron said teasingly, and flashed the photo of the oversized sun hat. Cuddy smiled as Lucas observed it closely; then Cameron turned the picture back to face her. "Not a lot of pictures of him smiling. Man, even the tribute will be mourning."

That statement sobered all of them, and they continued to pore over the pictures in silence.

Foreman was at home, sitting at the table when his cell phone rang. Not even looking at the caller ID, he answered the call, putting it on loud speaker. "Yes."

"Hi. It's Cameron."

His hand stilled over his sketch. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing you don't know about."

"So what can I do for you? And please...don't say 'Come back to work.'"

"I won't. Cuddy tells me you're an artist; I'd like your help. Something of House for the funeral."

"I think I can throw something together."

He thought he heard a smile in her voice. "Thanks, Eric." Then she disconnected, and Foreman reached over and hung up. Shoving his pencil crayons aside, he lifted up to observe a colored portrait of House.