Dr. Greg House

House leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the edge of the desk, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers. The audition sides sat in front of him, untouched, because he already knew how this was going to go.

Hex—the actor with the ridiculous name and even more ridiculous face—was about to walk in, flash a charming, well-practiced smile, and deliver a passable, if uninspired performance. Then, House would have to decide whether he wanted to hire him on merit or out of sheer spite.

It wasn't even the producer's fondness of Hex that mattered. Nyx was insisting. That was the problem. It was just nepotism with more steps, but damn it, House cared what he thought.

He was also kind of curious if the guy could actually act. And to be frank, someone who looked like him was right for this part.

House hadn't exactly been at his best since the love of his life had died in his arms, twice. But he had forced himself to get back to work, and was trying his very best to pretend like he wasn't absolutely losing it.

Though he had a feeling he wasn't fooling Hannibal, and he'd gotten put on what amounted to desk duty. Which today meant babysitting a guy from Q branch who was doing... something in sickbay, he wasn't even sure.

Alone in the room though, and nothing to occupy himself, he found himself watching him curiously. Perhaps a touch suspiciously. After all, it was MI-6 who were responsible for Max's condition, as far as House was concerned.

"What are you doing anyway?" he finally asked.

House didn't visit Input on a regular basis exactly, but often enough that his face was known there. The men and women he'd spent time with he'd seen more than once, and when he arrived tonight and sat down at the bar, the bartender pushed him a Jack Daniels without him having to ask, and mentioned that they were quite busy tonight but he'd seen Isaac recently if he'd like to have a drink with him. "Yes, please tell him I'm here," House had said before taking a sip.

Though before he'd even managed to take a second drink, he heard someone shouting for a doctor.

He almost ignored it. Almost. But instead, he said to the bartender, "I'll be right back," and then slid off the stool, grabbed his cane, and headed in the direction of the shouts.

"She'll be fine," House said, stepping into Hannibal's office. "Food poisoning. I gave her something that should keep it under control until it blows over, but consider her out of commission for about 48 hours."

Without invitation, he sat down in the chair across from his desk, and put his cane down on the floor. "She must be new, hadn't seen her before. Are you expanding or did you lose someone?"

It was completely ridiculous that House and Danny were still just sleeping in the same bed, like that was totally normal. Sometimes they even woke up snuggled against each other, and then pretended like nothing had happened. Perhaps it was just a testament to the strange world they were in. Everything was ridiculous.

It was bound to happen eventually, but House had a dream about him. Yes, him - Danny. He dreamed of the younger man on his knees in front of him. Tempting. And when House woke, he was pressed against his back. Hard against him, one arm draped over him. Hard against him. He didn't moved, afraid to, and also not wanting to just yet. Wondering if Danny was still asleep.

There had been a number of shitty times in House's life. When he'd thought things sucked beyond repair. But this definitely took the cake. What could he say? The world had gone to shit. Opioids were in short supply. And his leg fucking hurt.

If there was anything good about the current state of things, it was that there was always need for a doctor. Though the down side of that was that the cases were usually easy. Boring. Broken legs, malnutrition, bacterial infections.

He'd left London in the first place because treating a billionaire with a knife in his eye had at least made for an interesting few days. And now that they'd come back... maybe part of him had hoped they'd find a city here again. Nope.

He'd taken up woodworking. It was something to do with his hands. He sat a lot these days. Even though he'd carved a pretty bitchin cane. It was leaning against the chair he was sitting in now, as he carved a crowned crane out of a piece of birch with a pocket knife.

House had a feeling that this was going to end badly, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd enjoy it while he could, and that meant he wanted Corbin to enjoy it, too.

He got a room at a swanky hotel and checked in a little early. Made some preparations, and then texted Corbin the address and room number. He felt a little silly doing all this. Though as long as Corbin didn't think so, it would hopefully be well worth the effort.

In terms of his appearance though, House looked the same as always. Freshly showered, and he was wearing his favorite tshirt, but he had no desire to be someone he wasn't.

Honestly the data analysis that went into trying to gain insights about Wyn was one of the best intellectual challenges House had had in some time. The data from Alwyn was also enormously helpful, since he could use it as a control. Also the process of getting some of it was... a bonus.

Finally he thought he had a pretty reasonable theory. He didn't really want to wait until he ran into him again, so one day right after class he went to Wyn's room and knocked on the door.

House was not a fan of asking for help. Really not a fan. But he also wasn't stupid, and he knew his limitations.

He walked into Strange's office and without preamble announced, "I need you to make me a portal to the fae lands."

It had been less than a week, so it wasn't as if an obviously unusual amount of time had passed, but House hadn't asked to see Fin since their unexpected encounter in the holodeck. It wasn't that the had made a decision to... not, but he was definitely feeling some kind of way, and it didn't like it, and he wanted to give himself enough space to hopefully not feel that way.

He had also done his best to avoid Hex, but not enough to stay out of sickbay or the lab. Especially because he had a daily appointment with Remus Lupin, and today he was running a brand new set of tests. At the moment he was dropping reagents into a couple of vials of blood he'd drawn from him.