drfeelbad | Astarion

Astarion

Surprisingly there were not many pubs in London that played American football on the televisions. Even then, it was usually like one television out of half a dozen above the bar. As a result, House had not only a regular pub that he went to this time of year but also a regular seat.

"Hey Greg," said the bartender as House slid onto a stool at the end of the bar and leaned his cane against it. He went ahead and poured a double of Jack Daniels on the rocks and pushed it to him without House having to ask. "Who's playing tonight?" he asked, as if he cared. But House appreciated the effort.

"Ohio State versus Rutgers," said House then added gleefully, "I'm just here to watch Ohio State get their asses kicked." He'd gone to Michigan.

"Hey can I also get a basket of chips?" he asked, and the bartender nodded and walked away.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

House had a feeling from the way he held it that it didn't have any particular sentimental value. "Sure," he said, and took it from him.

"I also appreciate the opportunity to stick it to your former keeper," he said. "That guy deserves a kick in the teeth."

"For a start, certainly," Astarion agreed. "I can think of other things I'd do to him."

House hoped he'd established that he was helping the guy not out of pity but out of spite, which seemed much better.

"I bet you have," House said. He went back to the monitor and finished a few things, popping the vial of blood into the machine. Then said, "And now we wait. Do you want a drink, or do you have better things to do?"

Astarion studied him a moment, then shrugged.

"A drink would be nice, yes."

House checked the machine once more to make sure that the synthesis process had begun, and then said, "Follow me then," and led him out of the clinic and up the stairs. "I live upstairs," he said. "And to clarify, this is still not me trying to get into your pants."

"You don't have to keep assuring me," Astarion said. "Or is this for your benefit more than mine?" he asked, following him up.

House looked a touch uncomfortable. "Yes, well," he mumbled, as he unlocked the door to his flat. He'd just worried it seemed fishy to be bringing the guy back to his place. "Have a seat," he added, gesturing vaguely at the couch behind a coffee table on which books and a couple of empty glasses were piled.

Astarion looked around before sitting, making note of what was in the room. It seemed... Modest.

"I thought doctors were rich," he said.

"Hmmm. Maybe I should stop doing work in exchange for costume jewelry pinched off some middle aged housewife," House said dryly as he went to a a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

"It's not costume, and she wasn't a housewife," Astarion assured him. "He was a politician, and that was supposed to be for his nanny."

House chuckled. "Got it." At least he'd been right in the guess that he'd pinched it.

He brought over two glasses and the bottle, and poured, then set the bottle on the table before handing him one and sitting on the other side of the couch. He pushed some books out of the way to make room for his glass.

Astarion sniffed the drink, then took a sip. It was good, if not his preferred drink.

"I imagine this isn't something you've encountered before."

"It is not," said House, and picked up the other glass. "But I can't say I'm surprised to hear that the kind of tech I saw in your head is being used to control people. The potential has been there for a while. And the guardrails are shit."

Astarion was silent for a long moment, then sipped his drink before saying.

"I hate it. But I'd be dead without it."

"I wasn't just talking about the virus," House said. And he had an even better sense of this now that he'd seen how everything ticked. "It's incredibly shitty, what a number's been done on you. I hope I can actually help." He took a drink, his eyes mostly on the glass.

"I didn't mean the virus either," Astarion replied. "What he did..."

He trailed off, deciding he didn't want to talk about it.

"Anyway, it's all worked out so far. I'll be fine."

House could hear the don't-want-to-talk-about-it in his voice, so he changed the subject. "I'm sure you will be. And how will you spend your time when you're not hunting down doctors in bars?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I suppose looking for more permanent solutions."

"I was more asking about your hobbies," House said with a quirked smile.

"Hobbies? I don't really have any anymore," Astarion admitted. "I haven't really had anything like freedom in... well, longer than I think you would be inclined to believe."

"Well maybe now is your opportunity," said House. "Maybe take up photography or learn to play the guitar? Pursue a fulfilling career?"

"Maybe after I know I'm not going to wind up a zombie, hmm?" Astarion replied. "Right now hobbies don't mean much- Not if I'm going to be as good as dead."

“You know how to play chess?” House asked, as if that was a perfectly reasonable follow-up, and set down his glass.

"I do. I haven't in a long time though," he admitted.

"Well, want to play?" House said. "I even have a physical board. I won't let you win, but I'll promise not to mock you when you lose."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject