Nevertheless, now that he'd gotten Stacy involved (sort of), if he kept putting things off, she'd end up bursting into House's office herself to -- to use her favorite word -- browbeat House into ... something. Who knew what. Stacy wasn't always the most rational person, either, when she was upset and/or worried.
Wilson glanced at the clock and sighed. Now was as good a time as any. Past dinner but before bedtime. He flipped his phone open, hit the first speed dial button, and listened until House's answering machine picked up. "I know you're there, House," he said. "I'm coming over. If there's a hooker there with you, you better be done by the time I arrive. Uh... And if you're not, I guess I'll wait in the kitchen or something. But I'm coming over and I'm letting myself in and we're having this talk that we've been saying we need to have. See you in a while."
A half an hour later, Wilson unlocked House's front door and slipped into the apartment. "Honey, I'm home," he called, rather hoping House was actually alone.