House hadn't even known what to think when Wilson had owled him out the blue, after expecting having to avoid him for the rest of their lives. He hadn't had the greatest night last night (http://canes-can-kill.livejournal.com/1374.html#cutid1); after going out to Hogsmeade to drink when already fairly drunk, he'd been confronted with some strange angry Irish hobo, and House had promptly piled even more alcohol into his system until he'd passed out. He'd woken, hours later, face-down on the floor of the bar, still quite hungover and convinced that he was going to be alone for the rest of his life. At least his bike hadn't been stolen.
When Wilson walked in the door, House glanced up, briefly unguarded before the walls visibly slammed down, masking any kind of emotion. He was in the middle of standing over a cauldron with a bubbling purple liquid in it, white shirt rolled up to his elbows, the same blue substance that had been on his returning note spattered over his forearms and even a few bits on his face. Taking into the account the rather extreme way his hair was pointing everywhere, the dark shadows under his red-rimmed eyes (definitely, very hungover) and the ingredients scattered everywhere - all House needed was a hunchback assistant named Igor and he'd be set.
Setting down the dagger he was using to squish somewhat bean-like objects, House smirked slightly, for all intents and purposes looking rather focused on the potion. "Hello, Jimmy," he greeted, his demeanor perfectly normal, except - if you knew him well - the faint tension in his body language. "Come to see the show? This is like a brand of Extreme Sports that even a cripple can do. The adrenaline rush is amazing."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-03-06 09:28 pm (UTC)When Wilson walked in the door, House glanced up, briefly unguarded before the walls visibly slammed down, masking any kind of emotion. He was in the middle of standing over a cauldron with a bubbling purple liquid in it, white shirt rolled up to his elbows, the same blue substance that had been on his returning note spattered over his forearms and even a few bits on his face. Taking into the account the rather extreme way his hair was pointing everywhere, the dark shadows under his red-rimmed eyes (definitely, very hungover) and the ingredients scattered everywhere - all House needed was a hunchback assistant named Igor and he'd be set.
Setting down the dagger he was using to squish somewhat bean-like objects, House smirked slightly, for all intents and purposes looking rather focused on the potion. "Hello, Jimmy," he greeted, his demeanor perfectly normal, except - if you knew him well - the faint tension in his body language. "Come to see the show? This is like a brand of Extreme Sports that even a cripple can do. The adrenaline rush is amazing."