The problem hadn't been talking to him, of course, that part he didn't really have a problem with. It was the whole 'content' thing, figuring out what to say and how to say it and... getting up the balls to approach House in the first place. He'd counted eleven times that he had walked up to that door, and, God, it was only about ten feet away from his own, but every time he had gotten anywhere near to knocking, he'd chickened out and disappeared back into his room for a good few hours. He was a helpless case, he really was.
Draught of Living Death, though, he'd heard of that one. Supposed to make you sleep longer than a half a bottle of Xanax, apparently. He couldn't help but wonder, vaguely, slightly concernedly, if House was planning on using it on himself. "I don't... think..." Wilson furrowed his eyebrows at the cauldron, starting in a bit closer than a sniper's distance away as he took a few more tentative steps towards House. There was that nervous schoolboy twitch to him, still, making him pull on the sleeves of his dark blue sweater, stretching out the sleeves like he hadn't done since he was ten. "Is it supposed to be purple?"
He was cleverly dodging the issue, why he'd come to this classroom in the first place. All that confidence he'd attempted to muster before, when he'd spoken with that crazy woman with the ice cream (http://jewboy-wonder.livejournal.com/643.html#cutid1), Lorelai or something... It was disappearing faster than he could grab onto it, and he looked like he'd shrunken down considerably in the way his shoulders hunched a bit as he slowly approached House, careful, like a rabbit crossing towards a wolf with considerably large incisors.
no subject
Draught of Living Death, though, he'd heard of that one. Supposed to make you sleep longer than a half a bottle of Xanax, apparently. He couldn't help but wonder, vaguely, slightly concernedly, if House was planning on using it on himself. "I don't... think..." Wilson furrowed his eyebrows at the cauldron, starting in a bit closer than a sniper's distance away as he took a few more tentative steps towards House. There was that nervous schoolboy twitch to him, still, making him pull on the sleeves of his dark blue sweater, stretching out the sleeves like he hadn't done since he was ten. "Is it supposed to be purple?"
He was cleverly dodging the issue, why he'd come to this classroom in the first place. All that confidence he'd attempted to muster before, when he'd spoken with that crazy woman with the ice cream (http://jewboy-wonder.livejournal.com/643.html#cutid1), Lorelai or something... It was disappearing faster than he could grab onto it, and he looked like he'd shrunken down considerably in the way his shoulders hunched a bit as he slowly approached House, careful, like a rabbit crossing towards a wolf with considerably large incisors.