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Summary
“Finish it out,” he grits between clenched teeth. “Go on. Ask it.”
Nolan shifts in his seat. “Are or are you not attracted, at the very least, to Wilson?”
House knocks his forehead against his cane. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
[In which Nolan pulls at the Wilson thread, and House can't stop it all from unraveling. Repression is a hell of a drug.]
