Reluctantly, and with much effort, Lisa Reisert opened her heavy eyelids only to find herself staring into the face of an elderly brown eyed man who seemed bemused by whatever was going on around him. "The Pretty gun shot victim is awake," he announced leaning back to give her, her space.
"Excuse me?" she asked blinking rapidly. Instead of answering House simply looked at her, Lisa let her gaze travel around the room before it landed on the tall blonde man that stood next to the entrance. He opened his mouth to say something once he noticed that she was gazing at him, but she quickly cut him off, "You didn't shoot me, yeah, yeah, yeah, I've hear it all before. Right now all I care about is finding out what you injected into me, whatever it is, please don't use it again."
"A mild sleeping sedative, why? Did you have nightmares?" he asked, his blue eyes shining with sarcasm as he watched Lisa.
"Yeah," she said wryly, "About you!" Chase quirked an eyebrow at how well she was keeping up with House as he tried to throw sarcasm at her.
"Well, I've been known to cause nightmares in women sometimes, but let's talk about something, about your ex-boyfriend," he gestured toward Chase who in response let out a loud puff of air and sat down in one of the rolling chairs that sat next to him.
"Well, Mr. Rickler, I'd have to say that I don't see anything wrong with you," Foreman said as he flipped through the file which he held in his hands. "The headache appears just to be a consistent migraine, have you been losing sleep?" he asked looking at the man sitting on the table in front of him. The man's amazing pale blue eyes seemed to roam the room for a moment as he ran a hand through his brown hair.
"Yeah," he said, "A few weeks ago, my girlfriend got shot, and didn't really get better after the surgery." Rickler said rubbing the back if his neck and looking at the ground.
"Well, the migraines might be because of the loss of sleep. If I were you, I would simply take some sleeping pills before going to bed next time, Jackson is it?" Foreman asked, the patient nodded, " Jackson, I don't think this is really anything to worry about, just take the sleeping pills and try to get some sleep."
"Thank Dr…" he leaned forward to read the name tag that he wore pinned to his white lab coat. "Dr House."
"You're welcome, call me and let me know how if the migraines continue," he said before turning and leaving the room. Jackson sat on the table for a few moments longer, thinking to himself.
When he had found out about Dr Gregory House, he had pictured someone older, and much less people oriented. From everything he had heard of Dr House he was surprised to meet this man who seemed to be, dare he say it, nice. Jackson had never considered himself to be rude, but he had thought that someone like House would be, white.
Taking a deep breath, Jackson lifted himself off of the table and left the room. Not even a sarcastic doctor could keep him away from something that belonged to him, he would just have to get that little ignorant doctor out of the way before he claimed his prize once again. Lisa belonged to him.
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