Oh, that was a comforting thought, exploding potions. It already looked strange enough, with the purple slowly turning into a sickly shade of bluish black and starting to smell a bit like rotten eggs. Throwing in the random ingredients, that can't have helped. ...At all. And Wilson wanted to walk closer to speak with him, honestly, but he also didn't want to get himself covered in Draught of the Living Dead.

It wasn't even that Wilson was afraid of House either - God, he had never been afraid of House, not even the first time he'd seen the man, with his whole threatening demeanor. Those few extra inches of height that House had on him. Hell, he had even shaved, back then, and the much less grizzly appearance hadn't detracted at all from that strong of a personality. He couldn't be afraid of House. You didn't get afraid of someone you'd known so long, not unless something huge blew up in said person's life or... they went all dark side or something. It was just... this whole thing between them, right now. This confusing as shit thing that was really leaving him at a lack of anything creative to say, or do.

"The... no," he mumbled back lowly, rubbing at the back of his neck and eying the potion with a bit of wariness. "The hallways hadn't crossed my mind." He was hesitating again, but he couldn't exactly just bring himself to dive into something like this. "I, uh. You know." Eyes finally glancing to House again, pointedly, he frowned a bit, letting his hands fall uselessly to his sides instead. "It was about... what you said. The other day."