House walked into Wilson’s office. Wilson was sitting at his desk, doing paperwork. House sat down on Wilson’s couch. He banged his cane against the floor. Wilson looked at House, waiting for him to say something. House didn’t, and the two friends sat in silence. A couple of minutes passed, and Wilson asked,
“How’s your patient?”
“Fine, sort of. She’s getting stitches, so I can’t do anything.” House replied, and Wilson confusedly nodded.
“Then why are you in here?” Wilson questioned.
“Did...
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