[Maybe not, but he still preferred the appearance of being inscrutable, thank you.]

Of course it is.

[He thinks of the dreams, of the feathered stag and the whistle Will had used to turn its rack of antlers deadly. And that hand on his throat, thumb stroking his jaw. House blinks the fragments of memories away.]

Some of the most interesting books are the ones that don't match the cover.

[There's a flicker of a smirk.]

Wilson's the same way. [A beat.] With a lot less murder-y impulses.