(no subject)

Who: Lowe and *OPEN*
When: None specific (just trying to get back into the groove after my unexpected absence)
Where: cafeteria

Darrin stared up at the celing, cell phone pressed to his ear as he listened to his voicemail message that Neal had left for him.

Hey Darrin, it's me. I was just wondering how things where doing with you. Wondering if you've been eatting or just trying to avoid it as much as possible as you so tend to do....I do want to take you out sometime soon. It seems like you've been so busy with your hours that you probably just go home and pass out after you're done for the day, but it'd still be nice to call me every so often. I know you tend to isolate yourself, but I'm your brother. You know you can open up to me and that I won't snitch your little secrets to anyone....Just please, give me a call back....Bye.

Darrin frowned, had been frowning since his brother's third sentence. When his phone asked if he wanted to delete or save the message he pushed the button that would delete it. He then hung up the call and stared intently at his cell phone's wallpaper. It was something of a secret joke between the two of them. Darrin was always so very smart, but he tried to hide it. Neal had managed to get a picture of Einstein and strink it down to cell phone size. It showed him with his tongue sticking out. They'd both laughed at it, and even sometimes when he was having a particularly bad day he'd be able to flip open his phone and look at it to feel better. This wasn't one of those days apparently. It had been, but that voicemail killed it all.

In front of him the table was completely empty. He was supposed to be on lunch, but he simply wasn't hungry. Instead he went to his phone's menu options and selected the option that allowed him to check his e-mail. His lunch had just started so he decided he'd kill time playing around with his phone, making himself unaware of everyone else around him.
spiffydaze, disability

what rough beast

Who: House, Stacy, closed[phone call]
Where: Still at Harvey's Bar & Grill
When: Still during the course of his discussion with Chase after their escape from PPTH; House, half past buzzed and headed for drunk, has a thought and excuses himself from Chase to make a phone call. [Worried about our jobs, are we? Naaaaah.]
What: Chase's comment about whose job is worth more makes House retreat for help to a familiar quarter.

Notes: I wanted to get this plot rolling a little faster, since no other logs have been posted; I'd assume that Stacy is just that cool and of course not at all bound by professionalism to help Parker out as to let Cuddy & Co. know she's talked to him. Hence: the call for advice.


How many beers had he had? Four, five? House had pretty much lost count at that point, and it wasn't even two o'clock yet; he had to snort and shake his head even as he excused himself to the huddle of waitresses and incoming lunch patrons... well, he excused himself until they refused to get the hell out of his way, anyway, and then he got a little more insistent with his shoulder and the end of his cane. Get the hell out my way, damnit.

He wasn't uneasy, not just yet, but a steadily shrinking part of his mind realized and acknowledged the very real risk that he'd taken in trying to make Chase let go of his past. By now Cuddy[and he refused to think about that, too, thanks: refused to think about what he might have lost by doing what he'd done] had probably put a contract out on his limping ass, and judging by Chase's willingness to sacrifice his job, he knew just as well as House did that they'd crossed some line, back there.

Which is why he'd excused himself from the table to slip into the tiny little benched alcove by the side doors, digging out his cell phone and sighing at it briefly before rubbing the back of his neck and flipping it open. He must be drunk, must be, or else he wouldn't have dialed the number from memory without thinking about it, without looking at it, without engaging his higher brain beyond the simple thought that she'd know, at least: she'd know and she'd say something, at least, before Sam Parker got her fucking fangs in his throat and ripped.

Even if it was only "It sucks to be you, Greg".

He cleared his throat when the phone was picked up. No preamble whatsoever.

"I think I'm in shit."
  • Current Mood
    sore sore

Chase/House Bar Thread [Sorry if this intro is a tad long.]

Who: Chase, House; Closed (For Now).
Where: Harvey's Bar & Grill
When: Immediately following the unexpected events in House's office, and their subsequent consequences.

As the pair rode past the security guard booth at the exit of the Hospital parking lot, the guards eyed them suspiciously. Both House, Chase, and the rest of the ducklings were fairly well known through-out the Hospital staff. Well…with the exception of the Morgue staff now, apparently. But the only time you would cross their path is if you wound up dead, right? So, maybe making the friendly with them isn’t something to be highly concerned about. Plus, it didn’t help that House’s motorcycle was the only one in the entirety of the parking lot with a handicap sticker on the front, a cane hooked to its side, and was bright orange. Easily recognizable. So much for not drawing attention to our vehicle. Why didn’t we just take my car…

What was really bugging Chase was that he couldn’t figure out by the brief glances he had gotten of the security guard’s faces, whether the suspicious looks were because they were leaving at 11 A.M. and their shifts only started a mere 2 hours ago, or because the news of what had happened in House’s office had already spread like wildfire. This Hospital, after all, was known for its fast spreading of juice gossip. Feelings of co-workers be damned.

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lenschn, cycle boy

[Mod Post: willingtoliefor Concordance/Timeline]

Hola. I, your resident diagnostician, creator, and lesser part-time co-mod, have been thinking for a while now that it might be a really good idea -- as I've seen around in other parts of these here lands -- to have a willingtoliefor concordance: basically, one single post that keeps track of all the major events and happenings to date in the game, with links to the appropriate threads and dates. Cool, huh?

This way, if a question ever comes up about What Happened When, all the information will be right here at your fingertips and/or keys, depending on how literal a sort of person you are. Anyway, this post will remain in the game comm's Memories, and it will be [hopefully] updated every time something major takes place.

So there you have it. Enjoy!


Well, I was born in a log cabin...Collapse )

[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.


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default tie

[ Friday, approx. 8 PM; House and Wilson (Closed) ]

The subject of a serious chat with House had come up more than once in the past week or so. Wilson knew it was unavoidable and he'd even been the one to suggest it a time or two, and yet he kept putting it off and putting it off and putting it off. The probability of a rational discussion was very low and Wilson's bruises from the last argument had only just faded completely. He didn't feel like explaining new ones to Allison.

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.