Thanks to my reviewers! I appreciate everything.
Outside of Caramia's room, House grabbed a hold of Wilson's shoulder before he could walk away. The cancer specialist turned slowly, not looking directly at House.
"Well?" House's eyebrows raised and he pursed his lips sullenly. He stuck his head out a little, staring down Wilson slowly. Wilson sighed and shrugged his shoulders, rolling his eyes, thoroughly exasperated, knowing fully that this was his fault for not locking the door, or at least speeding things up.
"What?"
"You were in there with my patient."
"So?"
"She doesn't have cancer." House's mouth twisted to the side and he clenched his cane tighter, a small shot of pain making its way up his leg ant through his thigh. He was wrinkling the case file in his hand between his palm and the lacquered wood. "It would seem as she doesn't have cancer, there would be no need for you to be involved."
"House." Wilson had a bit of warning in his voice, but when had House ever cared?
"You thought she was sexy." House tapped Wilson's leg with his cane and the other man winced slightly. "Making the moves on her while she's undiagnosed and possibly on her deathbed? What a downright despicable thing to do." House made a face and then leaned towards his friend.
"You're crazy." Wilson said, eye-to-eye with House, less than three inches away from the other doctor.
"I like it." House said. He then growled under his breath and turned sporadically on his good leg. Wilson sighed and shook his head.
"I wasn't going to do anything!" He called after him. House spun on his cane and walked backwards, a sly smile on his face.
"Oh I'm sure you wouldn't, you sly dog." He said, frowning in mock anger. "You would wait two days and then call her back." He pressed the up button with his cane, knocking a nurse's hand out of the way. Wilson had already left to go check in at the desk to reserve the MRI room. House glanced at his retreating back and then noticed the rather upset look on the silly nurse's face.
"Sorry. Cripple." He looked down at her. "You can take the stairs can't you?"
Upstairs House walked into his adjoining discussion room, throwing down his copy of Caramia's file onto the table. He began to talk as we walked over to the white board.
"Female, aged twenty nine, or so it says, you never know with these things." He hung up his cane on the side of the whiteboard and looked up. "Where's the moor?"
Chase and Cameron looked at each other. Chase shrugged.
"Well this isn't good." House said, frowning. "We can't diagnose a brain disorder without the brain specialist."
"You already know what it is?" Cameron asked, confused. "You just got the case an hour ago."
"Which was when I diagnosed it." House said, beginning to write on the whiteboard, the pen squeaking slightly. Big letters. E P I L E P S Y. Boxy and emotionless.
"Epilepsy." Chase said, as if saying it would change it. "Really?"
House pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. "Really." He said, nodding his head slightly. "People with epilepsy are prone to have emotional swings. She's on dopramine, an anti-depressant. She's also on birth control. Maybe she's trying to just balance out the rigors of the jetsetter life she leads and being extremely and ridiculously good looking."
"So she's on insulin, Zoloft and Mirena?"
"Actually if you looked at the file," House said, mocking her gently, "You would notice she's on desipramine for her depression and some no-name drug with progestin in it for preventing babies. And you say I don't care."
Cameron rolled her eyes and looked through the case file.
"Traumatic brain injury depression?" Chase asked curiously, looking at the file as Cameron went over Caramia's medical history. "It doesn't look like she's ever been accepted into a hospital for a brain injury."
"Thing is." House said slowly, after having written 'seizures', 'tremors', 'diabetes', and 'depression' on the board. "We don't really knooow."
"What do you mean?" Cameron asked, slightly worried.
"Since she's not a U.S. citizen-"
"Where's she from?" Chase asked, curious.
"Venezuela. I think." House said, looking up at the ceiling. His leg hurt.
"She hot?" Cameron shot him a glance and his shoulders shot up. "What? I can't ask?"
House's eyes flicked from one to the other. "Gorgeous. Skin like a Neutrogena spokes girl." House said, taking his pills out of his jacket pocket, looking at the small orange case with screwed up eyes. He shook the case, noted the number (he could tell you exactly how many he had left. Maybe he counted subconsciously, he didn't know.) took of the lid and in a practiced motion threw his head back.
Chase's eyebrows raised and Cameron sighed.
"And you're convinced it's epilepsy?" She asked, pointing with a pen at the whiteboard. House looked scandalized that she would even dream otherwise.
"What does it look like?" He said, taking his cane and limping over to her. "No." He said, standing behind her "From here still looks like epilepsy to me!"
"Depression?" Cameron asked.
"One out of four epilepsy patients are severely depressed." House said. "Mood swings. They're not just hormonal, although that might have had something to do with it."
"Couldn't it be a tumor?" Chase asked, looking up from the file. "A growth near the brain stem could cause tremors and seizures easily. And anywhere in the frontal lobe could cause a lack of control."
"We'll see." House said, becoming more serious. "Get an EEG, and an MRI of this woman's brain. Hook her up to a CT scan while you're at it." House added as they walked out of the door. "If she's having dirty thoughts about me I'd like to know."
Chase laughed and Cameron rolled her eyes again. House followed them out and Cameron glanced behind her. House was walking towards Wilson's office.
"Where are you going?"
"Making a few more bets." House said, calling over his shoulder. "I think I'm going to win."
Cameron wanted to hit him but turned and followed Chase instead. House could make the biggest ass of himself however he wanted. Wilson might not let him off this time.
In character? I think it's not too badly done.
Click? Hate for the shameless begging.
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