House stood facing the outside window of his office, arms straight and locked, leaning his hip on his desk for balance. With stiff movements, he moved his left hand and the red flag it held straight up, and then down by ninety degrees. At the same time, his right arms rose with the white flag to about fifty degrees from his body.
So the movements continued, flashing through them with a practiced ease until he was well into the fifth word.
Wilson walked into his office the proper way, from the hall. He sighed, "House, you know that I can't read your silly little flag signals. We've been over this."
House craned his neck around to look at him. "Yeah, but I think that your secretary can. She's been watching me make them ever since you left your office over there."
"Having connecting balconies is a responsibility, House," Wilson said sternly. "You promised me last time that you wouldn't abuse that responsibility, didn't you?"
House pouted at him.
Wilson put his hands on his hips. "What was the message?"
"What message?"
"The message that you were trying to tell me with the flags."
"Oh, I was just trying to get you to come in here. It worked surprisingly well, considering that neither of us knows a single flag sign."
Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why?"
House pointed at the ground near his feet, where his cane lay helplessly. "I leaned Cane-y against my desk and he fell down. Will you get him for me?"
Wilson obligingly handed the cane back to him. "There. Will you stop, now? I actually have work on a daily basis, you know."
"Oh, yes. I promise."
Wilson nodded, not trusting him all the way. "Right. Okay then, thanks." He disappeared about out he door.
House managed to sink into his chair and looked into Wilson's office window for when he would get back. Good thing he hadn't noticed the tin-can telephones…
…Yet.