Not much info I can get out of her that I can't get just from watching her hubby and the Holmes boys on the network. Not worth sending and assassin after anyone when you don't know they'll stay dead, either. Might use her for an experiment if I can't find another pair of medically trained hands.
She murdered me a hell of a lot faster than one of the other guys in this timeline. So she's got that going for her.
[House raises a brow right back and his tone is deadpan. He was shunting the emotion associated with being murdered to the side for the moment. As long as Will didn't pull out a knife or start describing one in intimate detail, they'd probably be all right.]
Under two minutes is the time to beat. At least I think it was two minutes. Excessive blood-loss and all. The other guy took his sweet-ass time going back and forth. Managed to give him a concussion and break a couple of ribs and a finger, at least.
[He does pause to consider the favors he could call in, counting them off mentally and physically ticking away at them on his fingers.]
Five-ish. Well... three if I don't want someone to be incredibly annoying.
[ By this point, Will has found some surface to settle upon or against, his knees drawn up and arms resting across them. Shadowed blue eyes settling on House and studying him in that way that doesn't even try to hide the fact that Will is doing his thing. ]
[He notices that look, and House purposefully turns his expression and his posture neutral. Try to read something off a blank wall, Mr. Empathy. The thought is accompanied by a mildly annoyed look before that's wiped away.]
Your machinations affect me in ways I can't always predict and account for. Ergo, they are more annoying.
[ Will arched an eyebrow, leaving it unsaid but really? Did House think that was how his empathy worked? Regardless, for the moment he kept whatever he was divining to himself. ]
That was what always intrigued Hannibal, that he couldn't predict me.
[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.
[ Lips twitching in amusement, Will let the conversation be deflected away from either of them, for the moment, and onto poor Wilson. ]
A lot less, I'd agree.
Though he has his own demons to wrestle down; internal screaming that almost makes it to the surface, except he's learned how to self-flagellate before it gets past his control.
Heaven forbid he actually pursue a healthy coping mechanism.
[ Will's lips curved into a full blown smile then. ]
One among many. The whole taking care of literally everyone before himself and bottling it up when he's pissed off and resenting someone are a couple of others.
Then you recognize that you are both his anchor and the whip he uses to self-flagellate?
[ House had an ego, but Will suspected that this might be one area in which he might not wish to be the 'best'. ]
You recognize that his desire for self-sabotage runs even deeper than your own and that when he finally gives in to it, the destruction he brings down upon himself, will eclipse any effort you've ever attempted for yourself.
[ Will blinks, which is a reaction to that news. Because .. yeah, ouch.
This is the place where he should make appropriate noises of condolences, but Will can run that conversation in his head and come up with a fairly short and bitter conversation indeed. Instead, he sits quietly for it to go long enough that House might think he's dropped the subject out of a sense of social awkwardness.
But ... not quite. ]
How many times did he want to let it run it's course, only to pick up the fight when you railed at him?
[ For a brief moment, he considers pressing forward. But he's learned some of House's more intense tells, and so Will simply nods and turns his attention down to his fingers. ]
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rubikscomplex) wrote2015-08-27 10:05 am
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She must have one hell of a guilt complex. You probably low balled it.
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Not much info I can get out of her that I can't get just from watching her hubby and the Holmes boys on the network. Not worth sending and assassin after anyone when you don't know they'll stay dead, either. Might use her for an experiment if I can't find another pair of medically trained hands.
She murdered me a hell of a lot faster than one of the other guys in this timeline. So she's got that going for her.
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Well I haven't tried yet, but if I do I'll keep in mind I'm up against the stopwatch.
[ He was part joking, part reasonably purposeful. But he did move away from House so as not to panic the man too much. ]
How many favors do you have sitting out in the field, just waiting for you to call them in?
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Under two minutes is the time to beat. At least I think it was two minutes. Excessive blood-loss and all. The other guy took his sweet-ass time going back and forth. Managed to give him a concussion and break a couple of ribs and a finger, at least.
[He does pause to consider the favors he could call in, counting them off mentally and physically ticking away at them on his fingers.]
Five-ish. Well... three if I don't want someone to be incredibly annoying.
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And you get twitchy about my machinations?
[ By this point, Will has found some surface to settle upon or against, his knees drawn up and arms resting across them. Shadowed blue eyes settling on House and studying him in that way that doesn't even try to hide the fact that Will is doing his thing. ]
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Your machinations affect me in ways I can't always predict and account for. Ergo, they are more annoying.
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That was what always intrigued Hannibal, that he couldn't predict me.
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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.
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A lot less, I'd agree.
Though he has his own demons to wrestle down; internal screaming that almost makes it to the surface, except he's learned how to self-flagellate before it gets past his control.
Heaven forbid he actually pursue a healthy coping mechanism.
[ Will's lips curved into a full blown smile then. ]
No wonder you two get along so well.
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Don't compare our unhealthy coping methods. He's the philanderer who starts barroom brawls, not me.
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Is that what you believe his unhealthy coping mechanisms to be?
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[ He invited, lacing his fingers together where they rested atop his knees. ]
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[ House had an ego, but Will suspected that this might be one area in which he might not wish to be the 'best'. ]
You recognize that his desire for self-sabotage runs even deeper than your own and that when he finally gives in to it, the destruction he brings down upon himself, will eclipse any effort you've ever attempted for yourself.
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He won't have time. Not back home, anyway. There's something ironic about an oncologist dying from terminal cancer, isn't there?
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This is the place where he should make appropriate noises of condolences, but Will can run that conversation in his head and come up with a fairly short and bitter conversation indeed. Instead, he sits quietly for it to go long enough that House might think he's dropped the subject out of a sense of social awkwardness.
But ... not quite. ]
How many times did he want to let it run it's course, only to pick up the fight when you railed at him?
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No idea. He's fine when I'm from. But I'm guessing more than once.
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