"Yo, yo!" "Turn that back on." "Put it back on!" "Don't look at me, 'cause you know I didn't do it." "All right?" "You better have put fresh batteries in that thing, like I told you." "I did, Sarge, right when you— when you gave it to me, I— I did." "I put 'em in." "Well, then, hit it or something." "Otherwise, y'all are gonna have to listen to me sing!" "Here." "All right, don't panic." "Don't shoot us, and don't die." "You got it, G?" "Up and at 'em." "You're supposed to be in clinic duty." "Yeah, like I can sleep down there with all the crying and coughing." "Here." "Ex-Marine." "Thinks he has Gulf War Syndrome." "–There's no such thing." "–So he's been told." "It hasn't stopped the unexplained fatigue, rashes, and joint pain." "And just so you know, he's the nephew of a benefactor I owe a favor, so you're gonna take this case whether you like it or not." "Why wouldn't I want to take the case?" "The guy's tired and sore." "It's gonna be chapter one in my—" "Don't panic." "Don't shoot us." "Don't die." "You know him?" "Never met him before in my life." "Okay, well, you're about to." "He's on his way here." "Get your ass up and get your team together." "You have work to do." "–That's amazing." "–No, it's not." "It's not?" "I can play the harmonica with my nose, make a penny come out of a child's ear— or any other orifice, for that matter— given the right circumstances, can bring two women to simultaneous ecstasy." "The right circumstances being their agreement to bill you on the same credit card." "And what I absolutely cannot do is dream about someone I've never seen before." "Well, just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it can't happen." "True... it can't happen because it can't happen!" "Well, maybe you didn't dream about this guy specifically." "Right, just some other guy who looks exactly like him." "No, you imagined some generic Marine, then you placed his face in the dream after you saw the picture." "Sort of a coincidence mixed with a little déjà vu." "There's no record of him ever coming into the clinic." "So I must have seen him before somewhere else." "Fine, you've known him since Cub Scouts." "A more interesting question isn't what you dreamed, but why?" "I'm guessing you're longing for either a renewed relationship with your dad... or a new relationship with one of the Village People." "He was in the Navy, not the Marines." "I thought your dad was in the Marines." "The guy in the Village People." "Actually, he's only in the Navy when they sing "In the Navy."" "The rest of the time, he's just in generic fatigues." "What?" "You brought it up." "–You didn't flush." "–I didn't pee." "Male. 34." "Just got out of the Marines after two years in Iraq." "Admitted complaining of chronic fatigue, joint pains, intermittent rashes, and sore throats." "Thinks he has Gulf War Syndrome." "–Why is he here instead of the VA?" "Because he has a rich uncle Cuddy's trying to avoid fellating who doesn't buy the VA's diagnosis of "nothing's wrongatosis."" "The VA's right." "There's no such thing as Gulf War Syndrome, especially in veterans who've never served in the Gulf War." "Different war, same place." "Whatever was there in 1990 is still there." "What's there can send you home in a pine box, but it can't get you sick three months after you've gotten home." "What, so thousands of soldiers are lying about their symptoms?" "You send 700,000 people on vacation to Hawaii, some are gonna come back sick." "Doesn't mean it was caused by snorkeling." "He's right." "The studies all show the same pattern of symptoms in veterans who were sent to the Gulf and those who weren't." "That's it?" "You believe her but not me?" "Stick to your guns, Chase." "Just 'cause there isn't a single unifying symptom doesn't mean there isn't something going on." "It could just affect everyone differently." "You think this guy has Gulf War Syndrome?" "'Course not." "He's depressed, and he's looking for a disability check." "Most likely because he's just realized that knowing how to barter for sex in six languages and open a beer bottle with your eye socket are not the most marketable skills." "–Why'd you take this case?" "–Because a good scientist continually questions his own theories and assumptions." "–Cuddy's making him." "–Now I'm making you." "Do a full physical." "Recheck his blood for HIV, Hep C, malaria, schistosomiasis, and "T strain" A. baumannii just to make sure the VA's dotted their i's." "And find out every hospital and clinic he's ever visited, every city he's ever lived in, and... whether he's ever been on TV." "TV?" "Problem could be neurological." "Everyone knows TV rots your brain." "It's usually the worst on my palms and the bottoms of my feet." "I get these black dots all over." "–I don't see anything." "–It comes and goes." "You sure it's not just scrapes and bruises?" "I know the difference between a rash and a bruise." "Sometimes it's harder than you realize to distinguish between the two." "You obviously exercise." "My problems aren't caused by my workouts." "But you do work out, and by the look of you, pretty strenuously." "That's not usually the case with patients whose principal complaint is chronic fatigue and joint pain." "I was in the Marines for 12 years." "I'm used to doing PT every day." "Just because I can push through the pain doesn't mean it's not there." "We're not saying we don't believe you." "The hell you aren't." "We just need to be specific about what exactly the problems are." "I sleep ten hours a night, but I feel tired all the time." "I constantly get coughs, rashes, sore throats." "My knees and hips feel like some­ one poured sand in my joints." "I get these weird tingling sensations in my legs." "Sometimes, they're cold." "Other times, feels like my blood is boiling." "Specific enough?" "Look, I don't care what you guys call it—" "Gulf War Syndrome, Iraq Fever, or just Crappy Sickness X." "I just want someone to figure out what it is so they can cure it." "Except for the supposed pain in his joints, none of the other symptoms he's complaining about are currently evident." "Besides low potassium probably caused by him overhydrating after working out, his blood work's all normal." "Low potassium could also probably be caused by the experiments or vaccines in anti-chemical warfare pills he was given before he deployed to Iraq." "Not to mention the fact that whole country's littered with hundreds of tons of radioactive shrapnel from depleted uranium munitions." "Did you go to medical school in France?" "There's no trace of uranium in his urine." "And he was given the vaccines and meds two years ago without any allergic or adverse reaction." "Has he ever done any modeling?" "We forgot to ask." "We should send his urine to the U. of Leicester." "There's a professor there who's developed a more advanced screening technique for uranium." "If the levels are too low for us to detect, they're way too low to cause any damage." "Where you goin'?" "This way." "Did you find out about any television or other media exposure?" "Do you really care?" "Or are you just trying to waste hospital resources to get back at Cuddy for making you take the case?" "Of course I care." "What a horrible thing to say." "Do a LexisNexis search." "Get a copy of his credit report." "Before or after we tell him to eat a banana and discharge him with a psych referral?" "–I say before." "And I say in-between, give him a polysomnogram." "Sleep apnea can cause chronic fatigue and paranoia." "Find out where he went to summer camp." "Are you okay?" "Yeah, it's just a little too much coffee this morning." "Were we... walking you to the bathroom?" "I wish." "Wilson was just in there." "These guys know what I'm talking about." "That's his third REM cycle, and his breathing's completely normal." "There's obviously nothing wrong with his sleep pattern." "If it's not uranium, it's gotta be some other sort of toxin." "Or nothing at all." "You really think there's something wrong, or do you just want Foreman to be wrong?" "–Both." "Well, it's not his sleep pattern." "If you really think it's a toxin, you can do a liver biopsy in the morning." "We can't leave." "If we don't monitor the whole test, House won't accept the results." "He'll just make us do it over." "–It doesn't take two doctors to monitor what's clearly gonna be a normal polysomnogram." "Oh, so you want me to stay?" "You're the one who thought there was something wrong." "–I never said it was a sleep disorder." "–You wanna flip for it?" "Just go." "Oh, come on." "Don't be a baby." "Fine." "I'll stay." "You know what we could do." "–Here?" "–Why not?" "We're surrounded by empty rooms with beds in them." "–Yeah, and video cameras too." "–So we turn 'em off." "That's all I need is House or Foreman walking in on us." "We have the keys." "No." "What if he wakes up?" "–All right." "Suit yourself." "Damn it!" "Hello?" "Is anybody out there?" "I think there's a problem in here!" "What's wrong?" "What do you mean, what's wrong?" "You don't smell that?" "Nothing smells, John." "Are you kidding me?" "It's disgusting." "How long have you thought—" "Wait." "Open your mouth." "Smell's not in the room." "It's in your mouth." "What's going on?" "Good question." "What?" "You were wrong about the "nothing's wrongatosis."" "You can fake fatigue and joint paint, but you can't fake bacterial vaginosis in your mouth." "Where's his mouth been?" "Says he hasn't performed oral sex on anyone in over a year." "Selfish bastard." "Because he hasn't been with anyone since his last girlfriend dumped him and after he deployed to Iraq the second time." "Selfish bitch!" "We've ruled out HIV, diabetes, and any other endocrine abnormality." "Could be autoimmune;" "Sjœgren's decreases salivary flow, creates a hospitable home for bacteria." "No, his eyes and tear ducts are fine." "Who was his last girlfriend?" "Yeah, we'll... get right on that." "Chronic fatigue, joint pain, and opportunistic infection spells cancer." "Probably lymphoma." "We should biopsy his tonsillar and submandibular lymph nodes." "Right about cancer." "Wrong about lymphoma." "Unless you're simply hiding the fact that his lymph nodes are swollen." "Get Wilson to biopsy his salivary glands." "He's got parotid cancer." "And see if you can get to the truth about who he's been dating." "No way a Marine goes a year without getting some blood on his bayonet." "It's not an STD." "You just said—" "Just do it." "The antibiotics should at least relieve the infection, also reduce the odor and taste in your mouth." "Not soon enough." "All right." "You're gonna feel a little burn." "You know, I never even dipped." "Chewing tobacco." "Practically everyone in my unit did but me." "I was so paranoid about cancer." "Well, if it's parotid cancer, it's very treatable if diagnosed early." "My mom had cancer." "Which is why I know that diagnosing cancer early means before there's any serious symptoms." "Certainly tastes like a pretty serious symptom, you know?" "We'll know more after the test." "If he was just trying to mess with Cuddy for wasting his time, this would have stopped as soon as the patient started exhibiting actual symptoms." "So the question is, why is he wasting our time?" "Or is he wasting our time?" "You think he's got a medical reason for asking for the guy's credit report?" "I don't." "Where were you two when the guy woke up?" "Uh, we just— stepped out for a second." "To do what?" "To... get a coffee." "We'd been up most of the night." "He's just pushing to make sure we have a complete history." "Obviously, we're missing something, or we'd have the answer." "You didn't have any coffee when you came back." "All right, already." "We confess, you caught us." "We snuck into one of the sleep lab rooms to have sex." "We shouldn't have done it while working, and we're sorry." "Now can we move on?" "House'll do Wilson before you do Chase." "No, you would do House and Wilson before I do Chase." "Now can we get back to work?" "She did me once." "She was stoned!" "Biopsy's inconclusive." "I'm gonna do a sialogram while we wait for the results from the additional blood work." "No hurry." "Probably nothing we can do at this point anyway." "As long as the cancer hasn't spread." "He's spitting stink." "You should focus on the living." "I need a prescription." "I just wrote you a prescription." "For Vicodin." "I need alfuzosin." "No, you don't." "Have you figured out where you met your Marine?" "What?" "Oh, that." "Haven't really thought about it." "I can't pee." "–You can't remember him, can you?" "–I can't pee." "So stop taking the Vicodin." "–I wanna pee and not be in pain." "–Why don't you go to sleep?" "I don't pee when I'm asleep." "Maybe you'll dream about him again." "Maybe he'll give you an address." "I haven't peed in three days." "I read that REM sleep is the brain's way of working out problems." "Very useful." "Did you hear what I just said?" "Yeah, you lied because you want to avoid talking about your obsession." "I'm not obsessing." "–Why don't you just ask him?" "–I haven't peed in three days!" "You'd be dead." "–I'm not counting intermittent drips." "–You'd be in agony." "I passed agony yesterday around 4:00." "His mother, brother, uncle, and best friend all confirm he hasn't had a date in over a year." "Which means it's not an STD." "If you come up with something medically relevant, page me." "What did you want me to tell him, the truth?" "No." "You didn't have to be so convincing." "Don't worry." "I'll make it up to you." "This is getting out of control." "Don't pout." "Our patient woke up with an infection while we were getting our rocks off." "Do you want to stop?" "No." "But, uh, I don't want to get caught either." "You think I do?" "You certainly didn't go out of your way to keep the volume down when we were in the sleep lab." "–I couldn't help that." "Why would I wanna get caught?" "Maybe you wanna give House a reason to be jealous." "I'm over House." "All this is is uncomplicated sex." "Don't try to make it more than that." "I'm not doing it at work anymore." "Fine." "Wanna go grab some lunch?" "I think the pill is the way to go." "We haven't had a condom break yet, thank God, but it's bound to happen." "Especially the way we've been doing it." "On a bed of nails?" "No." "He's not kinky." "He's just... insatiable." "I can barely make it to any of my morning classes." "–You smoke?" "–No way." "Stop it!" "Sorry." "Any history of hypertension, blood clots, strokes?" "Nope." "Besides my OCD, I'm fit as a fiddle." "–You have OCD?" "–Duh." "Can't you tell?" "Any other compulsions besides drinking massive amounts of water?" "No, that's it, thank God." "My therapist says it could be a lot worse." "You get up in the middle of the night to drink?" "Yeah, every couple of hours." "Well, then your therapist is an idiot." "Unconscious people don't have OCD." "They can, however, have diabetes insipidus." "That's impossible." "I eat candy all the time." "Different kind of diabetes." "This kind is caused by a banged-up pituitary." "You're obviously more of a lover than a fighter." "I'm guessing either a car accident or... you cracked your skull on the balance beam." "How'd you know?" "Easy." "Nice ass, no boobs." "You got palms like a longshoreman." "Wait here." "You need a CAT scan." "–Oh, my God." "–Don't worry, just means you'll be taking two hormone supplements instead of one." "Okay, this time you're gonna feel a little pressure." "We're injecting the contrast material." "–Could you turn up the music?" "–Sure." "Looks pretty good so far." "Still can't hear it that well." "Can you hear it now?" "John, can you hear me?" "Still no... relief?" "I got relief." "Just got no pee." "If the pills didn't work, you may need a catheter." "You didn't come here to talk to me about my pee." "What's going on?" "He's got cancer, all right." "But it's not in his salivary glands." "It's in his brain." "And it's bad." "At least six tumors, maybe more." "He lost his hearing." "His sight's probably next." "Death is probably next." "No way he could have grown all these in a week." "They can't be older." "The VA couldn't have missed all these." "Maybe they didn't miss them, just mixed 'em up." "Switched his films with another patient's by mistake." "Maybe." "But it means some poor sap's getting his melon sliced at the VA for no reason." "And this poor sergeant's gonna be dead by the end of the week." "Where have you two been?" "Lunch." "Why, what happened?" "Wilson's found some fast-growing, elusive, or magic brain tumors." "What'd you find?" "Nothing." "He's telling the truth." "–About what?" "–About everything." "Where he's lived, who he's dated." "Besides forgetting to mention his dad's shin splits, his granddad's nose bleeds and to return a few rented DVDs, everything he's told us has checked out." "You have them researching your dream?" "No." "I have them researching my patient." "You had a dream about a patient?" "This poor guy's brain is riddled with tumors, and you're checking his credit report?" "Come on." "I need you guys." "–Where are you going?" "–To do my job." "He's not your patient." "He is now." "Go home and go to sleep." "Maybe you'll dream the cure to late-stage brain cancer." "How is he?" "He's dead." "Oh..." "God." "At least, he will be in a few days." "The question is why?" "The only explanation is that the VA hospital screwed up." "There was definitely no mix-up." "I had them recheck." "Yes." "Why would a government agency lie to cover up a mistake that might have caused the death of a guy they'd been trying to kill for the last two years anyway?" "–They didn't lie." "–Did you just take two Vicodin?" "–No." "It was an antidepressant." "I was told to take two every time you walked into the room." "The VA scan of his brain." "No tumors." "Yes, this is proof positive that someone didn't have tumors in their brain." "You see that bright spot below his left orbit?" "That is a titanium pin your patient had inserted 20 years ago." "Unless you think the VA happened to mix up his scans with someone who had the exact same pin, they didn't screw up." "You paged us?" "Why didn't you send his urine to Leicester like I told you?" "Because you told me not to." "Why did you choose that moment to listen to me?" "You think depleted uranium might have something to do with his tumors?" "Radiation's the only thing that would make tumors grow that fast." "High doses of radiation." "Even if he ate depleted uranium bullets for breakfast, he still would have been exposed to less radiation than we've given him in the last two days." "Do it anyway." "And you, call his uncle back." "Find out if he ever brought his nephew to any hospital parties or fundraisers." "No." "Not until you give me a reason." "Because..." "I'm your boss." "A rational reason." "Or at least admit that you don't have one." "I've got a full bladder, and I'm not afraid to use it." "But you are, apparently, afraid of discovering something you can't rationally explain." "–Shut up!" "Do what you're told." "Cuddy and Wilson may not have to listen to me, but you do." "What the hell was that all about?" "I don't care." "Which is why I didn't feel the need to ask him eight personal questions." "I'm over him." "Just making an observation." "All right, ready whenever you are." "I'm ready." "Wait a minute." "Zoom in." "I don't see it." "You sure you got the right coordinates?" "Yeah, she's in the right place." "Go 10 millimeters above the AC-PC line on the Z access." "Ten mil above AC-PC on Z." "It's not there anymore." "Are you sure you got the gantry angle right?" "Yeah, I'm sure." "It's not there." "It disappeared." "Six tumors don't just disappear." "Unless they were never there to begin with." "–The VA didn't screw up." "–Maybe someone else did." "Maybe it was Dr Self-Righteous." "I saw the tumors." "There was no mix-up." "Maybe there's something wrong with the portable imager in the O.R." "Something that would cause it to show brain tissue in perfect detail but completely miss neoplastic tissue?" "Then they were never tumors to begin with." "I told you, I saw—" "I know, you saw something that looked like tumors." "We all did." "We were all wrong." "Well, maybe he doesn't have cancer." "Maybe he has a brain infection that's causing multiple abscesses." "–That miraculously healed." "–No, they were healed by the antibiotics we're giving him for the vaginosis in his mouth." "If it's an infection, why didn't it show up in his blood work?" "I don't know." "Yet." "Dr Wilson, we have a problem." "What did you do?" "!" "I can't feel my legs!" "What'd you guys do?" "John, calm down." "We didn't even operate." "Could it be a residual effect—" "–I can't move my legs!" "–It's not the anesthesia." "John, John, we're gonna figure out what's wrong with you." "First we need to know one thing—" "Have you ever appeared in any pornos?" "Chronic fatigue." "Sore throats." "Rashes." "Putrid discharge in the mouth." "Multiple abscesses in the brain." "Hearing loss." "And last, but not least, lower limb paralysis." "He's certainly given us plenty of clues." "–It's gotta be some sort of infection." "–That's miraculously improving in his brain but getting worse in his ears and legs?" "Could be an infection and cancer." "Neoplastic Syndrome could depress his immune system and cause the other symptoms." "You're basing this theory on the negative biopsy, the lymph nodes that aren't swollen, or the tumors that were never there to begin with?" "And what are you gonna base your theory on— his favorite restaurants?" "I was right." "He's excreting depleted uranium in his urine." "We should start him on an IV infusion of isotonic sodium bicarbonate." "–It's not depleted uranium." "–You're the one—" "Who asked for the test when we were thinking cancer." "We no longer are." "Depleted uranium doesn't just cause cells to mutate." "It can cause cell death as well." "–Not spinal cord cells." "At least, not until the dose is high enough to kill all his other cells first." "So you're saying the radioactive uranium in his urine is irrelevant." "The sun's radioactive." "The earth is radioactive." "This hospital is filled with radiation." "The issue is not where it is but how much there is and what damage that amount could cause in someone's spinal cord." "And as I already stated quite clearly—" "Got it." "We're all idiots." "What's your theory?" "–Gimme your keys." "–Why?" "You ever tried riding a motorcycle with a distended bladder?" "Keep him on antibiotics." "Check his hearing and paralysis every hour." "So you basically want us to do nothing." "No, I basically wanna do nothing." "I want you to keep him on antibiotics and check his hearing and paralysis every hour." "Wait, you can't go home now." "Actually, I have to go home now." "It's two days past my bedtime." "–House, he needs your help." "–And I need sleep." "Hey, it's the brain's way of working out problems that the conscious mind can't solve during the day, remember?" "No." "Nothing." "I'm gonna die, aren't I?" "No, we're not." "We should start treatment for the uranium toxicity like you said." "–But House— –Isn't here." "If House wanted to be involved in the case—" "If he wanted us to start this treatment, he would have told us to do it the last time you brought it up." "–You have a better idea?" "–No." "–Then we're going with Chase's." "Tell him not to get the lines tangled." "The infusion is slow." "We can't have any kinks in the line." "I went to medical school too." "Keep your arms on your body, above your heart." "I can't feel my stomach!" "I don't feel that." "I don't feel anything!" "Paralysis is ascending." "If it keeps going, we're gonna need a respirator." "What?" "What are you saying?" "Can you breathe?" "No." "Not yet." "So, where were we?" "–You have a nice night?" "–No." "The paralysis is ascending." "The last check, it was nearly to his diaphragm." "–Tells us something." "–Means it's getting worse." "Worse is something." "Also tells us it's not the uranium." "Did we think it was?" "We started him on sodium bicarb to try to flush the uranium out of his system." "Great." "Now the fact that he's getting worse tells us nothing." "Never thought it was uranium." "For all we know, the uranium treatment is what's making him—" "A sodium bicarb infusion wouldn't have any effect on—" "On what?" "Kind of hard to say what it wouldn't have an effect on if you've no idea what's there to affect." "–We had to do something." "–Well, next time... go with something that has a chance of working." "Like what?" "You come up with some brilliant idea while you're warm and cozy in your bed at home?" "–We need more information." "How much more information could you possibly want?" "We have a medical history going all the way back to his great-grandparents." "A non-medical history going— –It's not enough." "It's all we're gonna get." "Wanna bet?" "Who approved a sodium bicarb infusion?" "Don't look at me." "I was home in bed." "–What's wrong?" "–He's unconscious." "His skin has lost all color, and his BP and hematocrit are plunging." "He was only on the sodium bicarb—" "He's bleeding out." "He can't be." "There's no blood in the bed." "Fine, he's bleeding in." "There's no sign of bruising or internal hemorrhaging." "Paralysis must have reached his diaphragm." "He's not able to oxygenate his blood." "He's not able to do it because he doesn't have any left." "–There's no evidence— –It's the only thing that would explain" "–There's no reason for blood loss." "–There has to be a reason." "He needs a transfusion." "Get me 4 units of O negative." "Stat!" "Let's elevate his feet." "He doesn't need a transfusion." "Nobody asked you." "In fact, why are you even here?" "Because, obviously, you need my help." "Get out." "House, his blood obviously didn't just vanish into—" "What the hell is this?" "Somebody must have spilled something." "Somebody else should be getting me 4 units..." "What the hell is that?" "It's a urine catheter collection bag with a rip in it— what the hell does it look like?" "What?" "It's just urine." "It's sterile." "No one's getting me blood." "Why isn't anybody getting me blood?" "You're bleeding." "House, are you all right?" "Why are you even here?" "I'm always here." "No, you're not." "There's a reason." "There has to be." "So." "Where were we?" "–You have a nice night?" "–Yes, I did, thank you." "I'm guessing better than our patient, probably due to his BP and hematocrit plunging." "How'd you know?" "The answer was staring right at us the whole time, as plain as the nose on our faces." "Or the nose on his face." "What's going on?" "What'd he say?" "No hairs, and cauterization scars." "Which means?" "–He had it cauterized." "–How could you know that?" "Just makes sense." "Undoubtedly done to stop the same childhood nosebleeds that plagued his grandfather." "Undoubtedly, because they were both born with Hereditary Hemorrhagic Telangiectasia." "What's he saying?" "I'm saying you've got a genetic disease that's destroying your capillaries." "That no one in his family's ever been diagnosed with before?" "Not surprising, since the most common initial symptoms," "—skin rashes and nose bleeds— are often written off as the result of minor trauma or dry weather." "But they can also be the result of his arteries and veins merging together." "He obviously has AVMs." "AVM near the spine caused the paralysis." "AVM in his lungs prevented his blood from being filtered." "Dirty blood caused the joint pain, fatigue, and the infections in his mouth and brain." "Nothing that a few surgeries won't clear up." "Get MR angiograms of the aforementioned." "The Marines weren't hiding anything." "He was." "Or at least he forgot to mention his bloody tissue issue." "What's going on?" "What'd he say?" "Oh, looks like solving the case solved your other problem." "There is no medicine like happiness." "Except maybe, laughter." "Or rubber tube shoved up your urethra." "You cathed yourself?" "Actually, it's not that bad after the first, I don't know, 9 or 10 inches." "The cath relieved the spasm, and I'm good as new." "Of course, just a minor spasm, and the muscle you've been using multiple times a day without any problem for the past 45 years." "Not a major side-effect caused by the overuse of a particular narcotic pain-killer." "Yeah, that was my thought too." "So, no reason to think about cutting back on your use of that particular pill." "Thank God!" "Actually it was a triple dose of the good stuff that allowed me to finally get to sleep and solve the case." "Pills made all my dreams come true." "You really got your answer in your sleep?" "Yeah, one in my sleep, the other one I got in the shower." "I've been thinking about you, you lied." "I didn't lie, I simply chose not to share completely irrelevant facts." "Like the fact that you lied?" "No wonder I couldn't place his face." "You were pratically swallowing it on the dance floor." "I was not." "Talk about the cool uncle, he donates the money, the nephew gets the right off." "Of course by right off, I mean, he gets to put your ankles—" "This is exactly why I didn't mentioned our one date over two years ago." "Because of my T-shirt?" "Because you are an obnoxious ass." "Because you would have spent the whole time—" "That's very smart, because this way I spent my whole time completely focused on the patient." "How did you even remember him?" "We were only at that party for like 10 min." "Is that some new health plan?" "Service the dean of medicine, you get free healthcare for a year." "Why are you smiling?" "You remembered him because he made out with me." "I'm good with faces." "So this plan, is it open to anyone?" "You're lousy with faces." "Don't make this about me." "This is your humiliation." "So how much for private room coverage?" "Get over me." "Give me a break." "You hired me—" "'Cause you're a good doctor who couldn't get himself hired at a blood bank." "So I got you cheap." "You gave me everything I asked for because one night, I gave you everything—" "Stop staring at my ass when you think I'm not looking." "Showing up at restaurants where I happen to be on a date and fantasizing about me in the shower." "That ship sailed long ago, House." "Get over it." "If you're still referring to your ass, I think that "super tanker sailed"" "would be the more precise metaphore." "Sorry, I was looking for an extra large trashcan." "Since when does he clear anything out?"