Disclaimer: If Fox and David Shore let me borrow them, I promise to return them in perfectly servicable, if slightly dissheveled condition.

Chapter 3

Thinning the Herd

"I thought she was kidding," Wilson said as he slid into the chair across from House in the cafeteria. Not only had House managed to get Wilson to pay for his lunch, again, but had also left him to carry both trays. Sliding House's tray across the table, Wilson eyed the group of fellows sitting several tables away.

"Nope, it really is ten inches," House said quickly. "Oh, that's not what you meant. How embarrassing."

Wilson rolled his eyes while House ripped off an enormous bite of his Reuben and chewed it noisily. This had to be one of the best stunts House had ever pulled to get out of clinic duty. And that was no easy feat.

"I thought Cuddy said there were forty of them," Wilson continued as he did a quick head count. "You're missing a few."

"Jimmy," House mocked, "you didn't really think they'd all survive the first day, did you?"

"It's only lunch," Wilson said dryly. House waved a hand to dismiss his observation. "Even you can't have fired six people before lunch."

"Of course not," House chastised his friend. "I fired four of them. Two quit."

"That's …"

"Impressive?"

"Okay." Wilson opened his salad and poured his dressing over it. "So?" Wilson waved his fork in House's direction, indicating he should explain how he was down six fellows in barely four hours.

"Two of them quit this morning when I told them they had to wear numbers. I fired two of them who got lost trying to find their way back to the conference room," House said, slurping his soda and stealing the bag of chips Wilson had bought.

"And the other two?" Wilson questioned, letting the chips go unheeded. Wilson never ate potato chips, hated them actually. Buying them was a preemptive way of stopping House from stealing the salad out from under his fork.

"Nose picker and moron," House said simply.

"Nose picker I get. Could you clarify moron?" Wilson asked.

"He said Carmen Electra wasn't hot," House answered, in a tone that indicated he believed this to be evidence of a severe mental deficiency.

"How did he ever finish medical school?" Wilson asked while rolling his eyes. "House, you can't fire someone for not liking Carmen Electra. Maybe he was gay."

"Not if the way he was checking out 11's ass says anything about him," House replied. "He's a moron."

"You know, you could have just interviewed them," Wilson said pragmatically. Why did House always have to go about things in the most convoluted way possible?

"What do you think I'm doing right now?" House asked.

"Besides scamming lunch?" Wilson asked.

"I'm observing them in their natural habitat," House countered.

"Like National Geographic," Wilson observed sarcastically.

"Exactly," House agreed. He twisted in his seat to watch the group of now thirty four fellows. "6, she's got OCD. See the utensils all at right angles, every bite of her steak cut into the same sized cubes? You should have seen her trying to pin the number on perfectly straight. 22, he's suffering from hearing loss on his right side. See how he keeps leaning that way? Probably hereditary. And 38's got a possessive girlfriend."

"How can you possibly know that?" Wilson asked. Mentally, he was wondering how he missed those things that seemed so clear once House pointed them out.

"That's at least the fifteenth time he's pulled out his cell since he's been in here. Texting, no doubt, because she wants to know how it's going, how's the new boss, what is he having for lunch, why didn't he answer the phone when she called at 10:30?" House stopped and took another bite of his sandwich.

Wilson watched as 38 did indeed take out his cell phone and press a few buttons rather frantically under the table. He shook his head. He felt so bad for these poor people. They had no idea what they were in for.

Turning back, he noticed House was now picking grapes off the stem. He'd thought it odd that House had wanted fruit, and when he saw House's next move he realized he should have known something was up.

House turned and chucked a few of the grapes over at his fellows, hitting 27 squarely in the back of the head. 27 turned and looked around in anger and confusion, while House quickly ducked his head back down toward his sandwich.

"He knows it was you," Wilson hissed at House. He was making it painfully obvious that he had thrown the grape, which wasn't House's usual style. "What are you doing?"

"Just thinning the herd."

Don't you just love Wilson? I do. Join the club, we'll have t-shirts made!