An interesting observation I've made:

Why are teenage girls cutting off all their hair when winter's coming? Doesn't it make sense to let it grow? Or cut it in the summer?

Seems like a trend now. Hm.

So really, you can't blame me for not making more of a big deal of it.

However.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

You too, Dr. House.

...

Right. Matt, it took me all weekend, but I got my hands on your chart. I'll now be your attending and when you wake up, let me know so we can go through your history.

Nevermind. I feel all right now. I have to get some tests done anyways.

J. Wilson,

I don't suppose there is a cancer that plays off of Gorham's Disease, is there? With skin and muscle deterioration? That would mean I could skip all of C.

R. Chase

I'd just like to state for the record that people who deny their loved ones because they do something 'the family' doesn't approve of should be made to have cathers shoved someplace uncomfortable.

Bastards.

By the way, I'm back.

( That's a sexy god, no doubt. )

There are few things in this world as post-cotial cuddling. Chase was trying to think of at least three while he lay in his lover's arms, completely sated and wrapped up in warmth and affection. After a moment he sighed and gave up, pressing another kiss to Wilson's chest.

"Name one thing that's better than this, right now." He murmured against Wilson's skin, as he stroked long fingers against bare skin.

All right, all required tests were scheduled.

All paperwork was filed.

Now for those niggling emails.

( Cameron, Foreman, House )
( Rowan Chase )
( Kai )

And with that, Chase put his computer on standby, typed in a quick message to Wilson to let him know he was ready, and sat down to wait in the living room of his house.

Wilson had asked him to bring it in - Chase had the thought the other man didn't quite believe him when he said he played the guitar. Muchless that the young Australian considered very strongly when he was that wise old age of 14 to start his own band.

He smiled with a quiet sheepishness at his own childish dreams as he slide the smooth tan instrument out of its case. He looked around the empty Diagnostic office, over at the computer that was still, and then out to the hall. Then he rested it in his lap, quietly starting to tune it.

Tighten that string.

No, that chord still sounded flat.

A little tighter there.

Good.

Why can't life be like tuning a guitar? All you have to do is tighten and loosen here and there, and it tunes perfectly. Life is never harmonious. He thought to himself. The situation with Wilson's family, his own turbulent relationship with his brother, his job, his boss ... now what he knew about Dr. Benson.

Climbed out of the bottle and never came out... he didn't want to tell the other doctors what would happen if they couldn't drag Benson out. He didn't want to lay it flat before Wilson, of all people, what it was like to watch someone die of cirrohis. Watching their internal organs all fail them, one by one...

The dischordant tone twanged against his senses, drawing him back out. He sighed, and continued tuning the guitar in his hands, playing a few light classical airs to soothe him.