Lisa Cuddy, M.D. (doctorlisacuddy) wrote in willingtoliefor,
Lisa Cuddy, M.D.

[Done! - Finally]

Who: House, Cuddy, Closed
When: Um, today? Cuddy is back from her impromptu vacation (aka, Mun Died and Fell Off The Face Of The Earth)
Where: Cuddy's Office
Rating: Uh, as G. says: NC-37. Heh.
Notes: Well! This is now running under the assumption that, aherm, your favorite hospital administrator and favorite limping twerp were very bad doctors and did very bad, unsanitary things while everyone was at the Memorial Day cookout getting their drink on or, in Cameron's case, running away in supreme embarrassment. And then, we're using the excuse that, Cuddy totally flees the scene of the, well, er, "crime," and then just suddenly puts in a memo with the secretary that she's taking a week-long vacation the next day. Yay for running away from problems, because, you know, it works all the time. So. That's that.


You can always go home... are the first thoughts that occur to Cuddy when she makes a rather quiet entrance through the hospital's front doors for the first time in a week and actually one entire day earlier than the sudden vacation time - for a Rheumatology consult, she had said, in New York - she had put in for. Quiet, because the hour is insanely early, when light is just sauntering along the walls and floors and people still feel the need to speak softly. It's always been her favorite time of the day.

It also benefits her in that she can make her way to her office unaccosted and mostly unnoticed, in a steady gait that discourages those few others who were in and along the path to her office from questioning her on how her vacation was, because she is somewhat pale, grim, and a little unsteady. Those who couldn't heed the visual warnings were handed a tight smile and a, "Couldn't be better!" before she swiftly moved past.

It hadn't really a vacation so much as a place to simply escape to: her parents' house, with her quiet, gentle father and her mother who henpecked her to eat ten meals in one sitting. Running away as if she were a teenager and not a mature, capable woman about to...

She unlocks her office in an easy and efficient manner as if she had not done so every day proceeding this morning. Lights on, head straight to her desk to rest her bag on on the wooden surface, and then a moment to rest her palms flat on it, taking a deep, steadying breath.

Then, breaking out of her momentary respite as if disgusted she needed it in the first place, Cuddy grabs her purse and pulls it open, about to retrieve the crumpled, white paper bag rudely lodged into it.
Tags: cuddy, house
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic