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Summary
“You idiot.” Wilson slammed the exam room door shut.
House jolted upright. His magazine fell to the floor, slapping face down dramatically. “Hey! Can't a guy sleep in peace around here?”
Wilson's hands found his hips. “You're on heroin.”
“Wha?” A corner of House's mouth curled upwards in a laugh that almost proclaimed guilt. He shook his head, palm pointed up to the ceiling in a display of innocence. “Heroin? Where are you getting this?”
Wilson shook his head. “Cameron. She saw a needle in your trash can. She told me that you threw it away before she could test it.”
House went quiet. His expression blanked.
The oncologist frowned, his hands dug deeper into his hips. “House! You’re going to kill yourself! Or worse, they’ll put you in jail with your medical license revoked!”
“What is this weird obsession of yours with prison being worse than death?” House questioned, sarcasm returning as he caught back onto the banter.