Owls to Dr. Wilson and Lily

[canes-can-kill.livejournal.com]

Wilson,

Here's your ugly, monstrous, hideous, eye-scorching paisley reversal of decent fashion. Notice how I didn't change it in any way? I was very tempted.

By the way, it occurs to me that you need to get out more. I know more people around here, and that isn't the natural order of the universe. If you're willing to wear a skirt, clearly you have some kind of social frustration that needs to be exercised by hanging out with better company than some grumpy diagnostician. Get yourself some friends, get yourself laid, anything, because you're channeling a Jewish mother more than usual. And I can't stand those quietly disappointed looks you give me whenever I take a pill. And I have enough parent issues as it is. Trust me, you really will go crazy if you're on your own too long around here.


House.

P.S. I got Steve McQueen back. He hasn't been eaten.

--

Lily,

Not sure if you're still in the Hospital Wing - I'd come up and see for myself, but then I'd actually have to, you know, make the effort of walking somewhere. I know how boring hospital beds can be, and for some reason you're all gung-ho about being me being some kind of mentor to you. Clearly you must be masochistic or brain-damaged. So here - medical journals. Hide them under your pillow, charm them to look like lesbian prison porn so Sirius doesn't take them away, whatever.

If you've been discharged, well, read up anyway. I know you don't like to let your geek-dom slip.


House.

(Mick Jagger is carrying three medical journals. One in Hindi, The Indian Journal of Anesthesia. One in English for a change, The Journal of Diagnostic Medicine (in which House has actually written an article about Erdheim-Chester Disease, though he will vehemently deny ever writing articles and it's likely he forgot entirely about it's presence). And the other in Mandarin, Experimental Treatments for Cancer.)