House drove to the diner, turning down a narrow alley to park in the back. Wilson was still processing the intuitiveness of the man next to him as they got out of the car and entered the diner from the rear of the building. The smell of food made Wilson realize that he hadn't eaten in over 24 hours. It smelled incredible, even as it made his stomach do a slow barrel roll.

They got a booth, and Lisette made her way to their table bearing a fresh pot of coffee and 2 mugs. House passed the keys to her, and she slid them back into her pocket before filling both mugs.

"Sweet ride. You do the restoration yourself?"

Lisette laughed and swatted House in the arm with her note pad.

''Course not. Bobby's little brother Jimmy does things with cars like Bobby does with food. He tore it all the way down to almost nothing, built it right back up."

"Impressive," House said with admiration. He rarely spoke so effusively, but it had been known to happen.

"It really is a beautiful car." Wilson enthused somewhat weakly. His stomach growled audibly even as it continued its slow barrel roll of nausea, and his head continued its incessant pounding.

Lisette regarded Wilson, taking in his drawn features and rather pained expression. The doc's friend looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Although she'd heard the growling of his stomach, he surely didn't look like someone much interested in food.

"So, what can I get you boys?"

Still full from his own breakfast, House declined more food. The internal debate was evident on Wilson's face - one that would, in House's mind, have continued for days had Lisette not seen it as well and made the decision for him.

"Be right back," she told Wilson with a mysterious grin and a nod as she turned and walked away. She returned momentarily with a tall glass of ginger ale, several packets of saltines, a short glass of orange juice, and a packet of extra strength headache powder.

Wilson looked up gratefully at Lisette and thanked her, taking a sip of ginger ale. She nodded at him as House raised his coffee mug in a toast before she returned to the other patrons in the diner. Wilson took another sip of the ginger ale, noting to himself that it had a somewhat different taste than what he was used to. It certainly seemed to help settle his stomach better. He tore open one of the packets of saltines, feeling his stomach settle a bit more as he nibbled at something solid.

A few minutes later Lisette returned to the table with an order of dry toast, which she also placed in front of Wilson. She winked at him and walked away without a word. Wilson looked over at House in confusion.

House chuckled. "I think Lisette likes you."

Wilson finished the first saltine in the packet and started in on the second. "How long have you known her?"

House shrugged. "Since I got into town on Thursday." He took another swallow of chicory coffee goodness, then reached across the table and snagged a piece of toast off of Wilson's plate, calmly munching as he watched Wilson marvel at the audacity of the man across from him.

"What did you say your name was again?"

"House."

"And you don't live here? You're just here for the conference?"

"Yep."

"Where do you practice?"

House shot Wilson an exasperated look. "What is this, 20 Questions?"

Wilson reached for the orange juice, brought the glass to his lips. House interrupted him before he had a chance to take a sip.

"You might want to add the powder first."

Wilson picked up the packet of headache powder, turning it over in his hands and noting that the ingredients were acetaminophen, aspirin, and caffeine. Nodding gingerly as he opened the packet and dumped the contents into his juice, he picked up a spoon and stirred the powder into the liquid.

"Now drink."

Wilson did as he was told, the orange juice made slightly bitter with the addition of the powder. He picked up a piece of toast and ate it slowly, occasionally sipping from the glass of ginger ale. He had to admit that he was starting to feel less queasy. Within a few minutes, even the pounding in his head had lessened to an extent. His mind somewhat clearer, Wilson contemplated the man sitting across from him.

He was several years older than himself, with the long, lanky, athletic form and slightly weathered look that suggested plenty of time spent outdoors. His brown hair looked like it had never seen a proper haircut, yet he had taken the time to shave, and Wilson found himself mildly startled at how blue his eyes were. They watched him impassively but Wilson would swear he could see a hint of both sly impishness and clever brilliance somewhere within. Wilson was still impressed with how perceptive and observant House had been in sizing him up simply by following him around the conference, but then he himself had been completely overwhelmed by the experience and remembered almost nothing about it.

Wilson felt well enough after a time to eat some scrambled eggs and another order of toast, and once again House snagged a piece off of his plate almost as soon as Lisette set it on the table.

House watched Wilson watching him as he reached for the toast, Wilson's eyes narrowing with annoyance. House found it more than mildly amusing. It was obvious that Wilson was still trying to process everything that had happened to him over the previous 18 hours and House could all but see the questions he wanted to ask forming behind Wilson's bloodshot eyes. He watched the younger man eat, tentatively at first in deference to his sensitive stomach, then with increasing enthusiasm as hunger won out over queasiness.

As Wilson's mind began to clear with the help of food and the headache powder, he decided to try and find out a bit more about the man who had just bailed him out of jail.

"So you said you're not from here, that you're only in town for the conference?"

"Yep."

"Where did you say you practice again?"

House eyed the younger man. "I didn't. Are we back to playing 20 Questions?"

"Well, it'd be nice to know something about the person who kept me from having to spend the entire weekend in jail." Wilson could feel his ire beginning to rise. God, what an ass.

"Fine. At the moment I work out of Jefferson Memorial in Princeton. I hold a double specialty in Infectious Disease and Nephrology, and am finishing my boards in Diagnostics. My boss is an idiot who can't tell the difference between a kidney and a spleen and made me come to this stupid conference because he knows it's exactly the last place I want to be."

"So why didn't you just tell him no?"

"Because he made it very clear that if I didn't go and represent the hospital, I'd be out looking for another job before the weekend was over. Thought about blowing it off anyway once I got down here. It is, after all, New Orleans. Way more fun things to do than spending 4 days with a bunch of insipid, boring doctors and administrators."

With that, House refused to answer any more of Wilson's questions. He was never one for idle conversation, and despised talking about himself in pretty much any context. They sat there in silence as Wilson finished his breakfast, House allowing Lisette to refill his mug every time she passed their table.

Curiosity finally got the better of him and House couldn't help himself. "So what are you going to do now?"

"Go back to Trenton. Try to talk to Sam - that's my wife. See if there's anything left to salvage." Wilson shook his head morosely, still trying to wrap his mind about what he was going to be returning to and the inevitable arguments ahead. He sighed. "Check into a hotel."

All at once Wilson took a long look at House, his eyes widening as pieces began to fit together. Infectious Disease. Nephrology. Diagnostics. "Gregory House? The legendary asshole of Princeton?"

"The very same."

"And you bailed me out of jail."

"I did."

Wilson became instantly suspicious. He had heard stories about this guy.

"What's in it for you?"

House shrugged. "I told you. It was a boring fucking convention. You were the only one there that wasn't boring."