[Conveniently, he has something drawn up for this. Wilson receives a video of a notepad that shows a many-armed monster reaching for a stick figure with a cane that seems to be running away. House pulls the notepad away and just shrugs for the camera. Wilson already knows Duster is dangerous. No need to deal with him flipping out over murder. Or lecturing. Or trying to get into the middle of it. House keeps his expression neutral.]
[Wilson sighs. House's nonchalance is irritating, to say the least. Not that he would've expected anything else, really, but it's too... Normal. This is not a normal situation.] I've been here for three days and you already manage to get yourself killed. And from that look on your face, I'm guessing that happens often. What's with the drawings?
[He rolls his eyes and holds up four fingers. This totally isn't often. Okay... so it's more often than others. And it still hasn't actually achieved anything. They're all just... pointless.
It takes him a minute to figure out how to actually mime an explanation for what's going on with the drawings, but House eventually settles for propping his tablet up and stepping back. He's not thinking terribly hard about it as his legs come partially into view. Two things Wilson may immediately notice: House is not using a cane, and his clothes have bloodstains all over the place. Luckily, his peacoat is dark, so that's not as noticeable, but the inside leg of his jeans on the right side is stained almost down to his knee.
In any case, it's time for charades. House taps his wrist, points at the tablet, and then draws a finger across his throat. He follows this up by miming being dead in an exaggerated manner before raising his arms in zombie-esque fashion and taking a shambling step.
When you die and rise again.
He points at the tablet again, and then starts checking his pockets, all around, in a harried fashion. After a few seconds of this, he picks up an imaginary object and points to it.
You lose something important.
House points to himself, then mimes writing in the air, followed by hand-puppets talking to each other.
[Wilson watches the one-man show carefully. By the time House is done, Wilson has a lot of questions, more about House's current state than anything he acted out.]
Right. When you come back to life after dying, something goes missing for awhile. [Someone had mentioned it before, he remembers now, but it's going to take him a little while to get used to the rules of this world. He's still reeling from that infodump on his first day.] And you can't use language. Great. [There's some kind of ironic humor in that, but Wilson's too tired to suss it out. He can't imagine House will stay in good spirits as long as he can't verbally harass others.]
[House glances down. Oh. Right. Welp. Time to lie.
He wags a finger back and forth. Blood? Who said these are blood stains? He mimes reaching down and picking up a handful of dirt, rubbing it between his fingers, then dropping it, wrinkling his nose and wiping his hand across his chest.
Huh. You've managed to get yourself awfully dirty in this pristine, frozen tundra. Or is there some kind of swamp or bog on this map that I'm just not seeing? An arena for mud wrestling, perhaps?
[He's somehow forgotten how sharp Wilson could be. Welp. Time to just dig that hole deeper. Literally. House holds up a finger, then crouches and picks up the tablet again. He adjusts it so Wilson's new view is of the ceiling. It's about a minute later that he'll be treated to a brief paneled comic.
It shows a stick figure digging at a snowy cemetery, then jumping down into the grave, pulling a body out, and using a magnifying glass on it with question marks over the head. Yep. Digging up graves. There are other people who can attest to doing it, even.]
[Wilson doesn't quite buy this explanation, but he doesn't have enough information to press it further. Plus, he's absolutely sure House has done some gravedigging since he's been here. That just sounds like something he'd get up to.]
So, how exactly did you manage to dig up some graves without your team of lackeys here to do it for you? [He glances at House's mysteriously all-better leg. Enough other stuff has happened around here to where he's not terribly surprised by impossible healing. What's up with that?]
House draws a finger across his throat again, and then does magical spirit fingers in front of himself before balling his hands into fists and then exaggeratedly pumping them like he's walking along.
Dying changes everything, Wilson. Didn't you know?]
[Wilson squints as he watches House's charades explanation.]
So not only do you magically rise from the dead here, but your body also magically heals itself? How is that...? [He stops himself. He should know by now that asking how things are possible around here is just a waste of time.
Four? You're kidding. Just because the typical rules of death don't apply here... [Wilson sighs. There's no point in lecturing him.]
You've gotten lucky. Really, really lucky. From what I've heard, revival after death isn't all that likely and it's a far cry from a guarantee. [Thanks for the tip, Alfie.]
Do me a favor and quit getting yourself killed, alright? The last thing I need is for you to wind up permanently dead. At least stick around for my sake.
[House bristles. And this is why he doesn't tell Wilson things. There's a part of him that's already been thinking he's going to have to be less reckless - if only moderately so - with Wilson turning up. 'For my sake,' hits particularly hard. For his sake. When House has already seen anomalies that look like Wilson. When he's the one House had seen in that thing underground.
He looks away and makes a dismissive waving gesture. This is too complicated a conversation to have when he can't actually speak or write.
And there's the matter of the Joker... House knows he's probably not going to come out of that alive, but maybe he'll have his Vicodin.]
[Wilson sighs. It's tough to remember that this version of House isn't the one that made his life hell over a pissing contest with Tritter, or that got Amber killed. How that's possible, he's got no clue, but that's how it is. Wilson can't even remember where their relationship was at back before that second Stacy disaster, and on top of that, House has apparently been here for months. It's a lot to navigate.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and goes quiet for a moment.] Sorry. Sorry. I'm sure dying isn't exactly fun. Just. Be careful, please? I doubt the rest of us have a chance of getting out of this mess without you, O Great King of Puzzles.
[House sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He pulls his pill bottle out of his pocket and shakes it before pointing to himself and making a walking motion with is fingers.
Wilson had asked, before he died, what he was doing. Technically this is true. He's going to get his meds. They just happen to be in the possession of a psychopath.]
[The name gets House's attention. He points just off to the side of Wilson and then mimes taking notes, taking pictures. His infogolem, Wilson. Is she collecting info?]
[House rolls his eyes. Ugh! No speaking or writing is incredibly inconvenient. He thinks for a moment, then grabs his notepad. It's about half a minute later that House is showing Wilson a very sketchy version of Ecks' face. She's wearing a very vacant expression. He taps that, then sets the notepad aside before pointing to himself. Next, he goes through a series of mimes that would probably only make sense to Wilson... if Wilson still remembers House's original team well.
He puts on a disinterested expression before mock tossing his hair like a super model. He moves straight into clasping his hands up close to his neck and fluttering his eyes before looking so concerned and sighing. And he'll round it off with brows furrowing into an incredulous look, mock-shouting and throwing his hands up.
Chase, Cameron, Foreman.
House picks up his notepad again and flips to another page that shows a fairly accurate drawing of the outline of Alaska. And then he flips back to the picture of Ecks.
[It takes Wilson a moment, but then he remembers that House would've still had Foreman, Chase, and Cameron around if teaching that class is the last thing he remembers.]
So you've somehow recruited her. That makes sense, I suppose. She's an interesting one. Seems useful, too.
[He makes a so-so motion regarding her 'usefulness.' House picks up his pad again and shows Wilson his map with the tunnels to the east filled with question marks. He flips back to Ecks' picture. She's the info source that ran off before. The one he was complaining about.
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rubikscomplex) wrote2015-08-27 10:05 am
@hotstud_xxx; video
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It takes him a minute to figure out how to actually mime an explanation for what's going on with the drawings, but House eventually settles for propping his tablet up and stepping back. He's not thinking terribly hard about it as his legs come partially into view. Two things Wilson may immediately notice: House is not using a cane, and his clothes have bloodstains all over the place. Luckily, his peacoat is dark, so that's not as noticeable, but the inside leg of his jeans on the right side is stained almost down to his knee.
In any case, it's time for charades. House taps his wrist, points at the tablet, and then draws a finger across his throat. He follows this up by miming being dead in an exaggerated manner before raising his arms in zombie-esque fashion and taking a shambling step.
When you die and rise again.
He points at the tablet again, and then starts checking his pockets, all around, in a harried fashion. After a few seconds of this, he picks up an imaginary object and points to it.
You lose something important.
House points to himself, then mimes writing in the air, followed by hand-puppets talking to each other.
He can't write or talk.
He ends with another shrug.]
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Right. When you come back to life after dying, something goes missing for awhile. [Someone had mentioned it before, he remembers now, but it's going to take him a little while to get used to the rules of this world. He's still reeling from that infodump on his first day.] And you can't use language. Great. [There's some kind of ironic humor in that, but Wilson's too tired to suss it out. He can't imagine House will stay in good spirits as long as he can't verbally harass others.]
Care to explain why you're covered in blood?
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He wags a finger back and forth. Blood? Who said these are blood stains? He mimes reaching down and picking up a handful of dirt, rubbing it between his fingers, then dropping it, wrinkling his nose and wiping his hand across his chest.
Dirt. It's totally dirt, bro.]
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It shows a stick figure digging at a snowy cemetery, then jumping down into the grave, pulling a body out, and using a magnifying glass on it with question marks over the head. Yep. Digging up graves. There are other people who can attest to doing it, even.]
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So, how exactly did you manage to dig up some graves without your team of lackeys here to do it for you? [He glances at House's mysteriously all-better leg. Enough other stuff has happened around here to where he's not terribly surprised by impossible healing. What's up with that?]
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'Wow.']
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House draws a finger across his throat again, and then does magical spirit fingers in front of himself before balling his hands into fists and then exaggeratedly pumping them like he's walking along.
Dying changes everything, Wilson. Didn't you know?]
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So not only do you magically rise from the dead here, but your body also magically heals itself? How is that...? [He stops himself. He should know by now that asking how things are possible around here is just a waste of time.
He sighs.]
So this is your second time dying, then?
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Uh huh, sure. How many times, House?
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He holds up four fingers.]
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You've gotten lucky. Really, really lucky. From what I've heard, revival after death isn't all that likely and it's a far cry from a guarantee. [Thanks for the tip, Alfie.]
Do me a favor and quit getting yourself killed, alright? The last thing I need is for you to wind up permanently dead. At least stick around for my sake.
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He looks away and makes a dismissive waving gesture. This is too complicated a conversation to have when he can't actually speak or write.
And there's the matter of the Joker... House knows he's probably not going to come out of that alive, but maybe he'll have his Vicodin.]
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He pinches the bridge of his nose and goes quiet for a moment.] Sorry. Sorry. I'm sure dying isn't exactly fun. Just. Be careful, please? I doubt the rest of us have a chance of getting out of this mess without you, O Great King of Puzzles.
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Wilson had asked, before he died, what he was doing. Technically this is true. He's going to get his meds. They just happen to be in the possession of a psychopath.]
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He puts on a disinterested expression before mock tossing his hair like a super model. He moves straight into clasping his hands up close to his neck and fluttering his eyes before looking so concerned and sighing. And he'll round it off with brows furrowing into an incredulous look, mock-shouting and throwing his hands up.
Chase, Cameron, Foreman.
House picks up his notepad again and flips to another page that shows a fairly accurate drawing of the outline of Alaska. And then he flips back to the picture of Ecks.
She's part of his team here.]
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So you've somehow recruited her. That makes sense, I suppose. She's an interesting one. Seems useful, too.
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Make sure she does her job this time, Wilson.]
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