It was a quiet car ride. Chase was in the passenger seat again. He slouched forward, one hand over his eyes; and House sat in the back, fully reclined, pinching the bridge of his nose. Once in awhile one of them would emit a soft groan. Cameron kept to herself, but smiled after a quick glance into the rearview mirror. For geniuses, they had sure been stupid last night.

"Oh, I think I'm gonna be sick," Chase finally groaned.

"Shh," came the unsympathetic voice from the backseat.

Cameron pulled to a stop, waiting to turn. They could hear a motorcycle fast approaching, and Chase sat up, squinting in the severe light as he rolled his window down. The motorcycle roared past and he hung his head out the window. After a moment he relaxed in his seat and rolled the window back up. "Better safe than sorry," he muttered. The traffic cleared and she began turning into the parking lot of a strip mall. Chase looked at her in confusion. "Why are you turning?" he asked, causing House to open one eye. He looked around and began sitting up straight.

"Because you buy something from all the countries you visit. It's your last chance."

Chase was almost ready to protest, but then began to unbuckle. "Maybe I can grab some coffee."

"Canadian coffee?" House asked, and peered out at the strip mall. "Don't be surprised if it's not strong enough."

They got out of the vehicle and walked through the parking lot. Limping after them, House looked up and saw a Canadian flag blowing in the wind. Neither fond of Canada nor in a good mood, he scoffed in derision. "Ridiculous. Isn't it? The land of the free and home of the brave is represented by something that gets stuck under your shoe. God, that's stupid," he sighed, as they stopped in front of the crosswalk.

"The sound of your voice is making me nauseous."

"Well, we don't need to talk. We can just skip to the lovemaking."

"Yeah, I don't need to laugh; you're not my boss anymore." Reaching the sidewalk, Chase turned to face him, also halting Cameron. "Why aren't you my boss anymore?" he asked. "You had a good job, a good life. I'd love to know why you threw it away."

"And I'd love to tell you. Unfortunately the sound of your voice is making me nauseous." House limped past him and entered the nearest building. As he walked, he observed the customers going about their daily lives, trying to listen to the background noise. He thought for sure he would hear every single one of them slip an Eh into their conversation, but even getting all the way to the shelves, he didn't hear even one.

House turned to Chase as he began to explore, and he picked up a bobblehead. "What about this?"

He took it from him, briefly observed it and set it back down. "This was made in China."

"Buy it anyway. Save yourself a trip."

"House," Cameron interjected. "It's not the same thing."

House raised his eyebrows and surveyed the room. "Okay. Let's just grab a Canadian. I see plenty."

A petite woman came walking around one of the clothing racks, smiling humorlessly as she walked past.

"House, go with Chase, get some coffee, and—don't talk, as a favor to...well, everybody."

Chase spared House a glance before walking away. House looked at her for a moment longer, walking away just as she began to feel uncomfortable. She sighed, watching them go, and wondering if she would ever get over either of them.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" House demanded.

"Nope. But I figured she wanted some space."

"You are kind of a handful."

"Me?!" Chase exclaimed.

"You're exes. Lot of tension."

"She hates you."

"Well, she's been saying it wrong. Or you are." He stopped, looking at the stores to each side. "Let's see, who do you think makes better coffee—the guy who sells shoes, or the guy who sells electronics?"

"Wow, I don't know what sucks worse; the hangover or the company."

House eyeballed him. "Well, you appear to be in better spirits," he said, and grinned at his own pun. "See? Company's delightful."

Chase started walking again, and House followed him, lagging severely. Realizing he was pretty much alone, Chase doubled back with a sigh to where House hung onto some furniture in the middle of the hall. "How do you take it? Still black?"

"Yeah."

"Sit down, ol' boy. Don't dislocate your hip."

In his absence, House sat, hooked his cane atop the arm of his seat, and reached for the magazines. He looked up into the dollar store across from him, then looked in the direction Chase had taken before turning his attention to the magazine. It wasn't a Playboy, but there were some pictures that flaunted women's bathing suits. He had been staring at the same picture for awhile when a rather familiar voice said, "You sure your brain is healthy?"

House looked up at Logan.

"Glad I don't get my diagnoses from you," Logan quipped.

"My brain is healthy, and my diagnoses proficient." House slapped the magazine onto the table beside him. "If I didn't have the capacity to make a living, I'd live in some secluded building in a country no one likes."

"A cynical bastard like you? You're halfway there."

"People like me. Unfortunately."

"We're talking about your brain, not theirs."

"Don't tell me you've never looked at a magazine before."

"Haven't needed to."

"Right, because you have Kayla."

"That's right."

"Yeah... See, normally one woman wouldn't be enough for me, but thinking of her was awful satisfactory last night. And, you know, I think I'm starting to get lonely again."

"Jesus, come on, you know how to conduct your—" An alarm went off then, as a man burst out of a store and came running towards the furniture. Seeing the cashier rushing after him, Logan had the good graces to excuse himself before walking away from the conversation. As the thief raced towards Logan, he casually extended an arm in front of the guy's face.

A terrific, metallic bang resonated through the building as the man fell backwards. He was unconscious before he landed. House got up and came in for a closer look, as quickly as he was able. His nose was smashed in, and his sleeping body writhed as he choked on his own teeth and blood. Out of habit, House rolled the man over onto his side and pried his mouth open. He looked quickly as Logan knelt beside him to retrieve the stereo the man had tried to take. He shoved it into the cashier's arms, draping the wire over his shoulder. "There, you got it?"

"Yes. Yes, sir." Hardly able to look away from the near-comatose man, the cashier stumbled back into his shop.

Logan looked at his victim, and saw House looking up at him in astonishment. "What did you do?"

"Don't worry about it. You're safe." Logan shrugged and then added, "You remind Kayla of her grandfather."

House stared as the man turned around and walked away. It was only the sound of a cup shattering that could break into his tumultuous thoughts; then Chase was there, kneeling beside him. "My God! What have you done, House?"

"I didn't."

Chase scoffed. "Sure. Right. The most antisocial, angry person I have ever met was just sitting here minding his own business, when someone's face just randomly breaks. What, did he sneeze too hard?" he asked.

They locked eyes, and Chase could evidently see the bewilderment on his face.

"I didn't do it," House said simply.

"So then who did?"

"It was... What's-his-name. Louie."

"The guy from the cabin?" Chase asked, as a mall security officer showed up. Chase offered a hand to House and was quite surprised when he allowed him to assist. They backed away from the scene, and Chase tried not to show his emotions, as his brain finally placed Logan's face on the animal's body.

House frowned as Chase suddenly began to leave. "Wait, where's the coffee?"

"It's on the floor. I need to go. I need some air."

"Hey," House yelled after him, but Chase didn't stop. House sighed, preparing himself to start limping, but instead found himself rooted in place by a heavy hand.

"Excuse me, sir," a deep voice said. "You know the man who did this?"

House turned around and found himself at eye-level with the man's chest. His eyes shot up to the security guard's intimidating stare. "Uh, well, sort of. But I don't really know his name."

"My friend says you called him Louie."

"Well, I know I'm close! Starts with L."

"Is that all you know?"

"I know he did your job!"

He turned around and began limping for the exit.