The textbook said that it was supposed to be blackcurrant in the mid-way stage, actually, a darker purple than the one House was currently staring out. This whole potions thing was supposed to be pretty specific, so House tossed in a few more of the ingredients and hoped that it darkened up. This was actually a great way to keep him distracted while Wilson worked his way to dismissing him. "Yep," he muttered in reply. "It changes color, though, so it could still blow up in my face like Hiroshima."

But then again, pretending you were involved in a potions textbook could only go so far when your best friend was in the room with something important clearly on his mind. Sighing sharply and slamming the book closed, House tilted his head slightly, pinning Wilson with his rather diagnostic stare, the same one he wore in the middle of particularly confusing case. God, was Wilson afraid of him? House normally encouraged this in people, but the fact that Wilson was reduced to inching closer as if he were afraid of being struck with sudden gory death... wasn't something House was proud of. Looking a bit disarmed, House went back to looking at his potion. Definitely rather unhealthy looking.

"So," he said conversationally, "Came to talk about the deplorable conditions of the 5th-floor hallways?" If Wilson could avoid, then House could too. Up until a certain point.

((Reposted for typos. I spel grate, YAY.))