He ignores Ezekiel's discomfort and reaches for the jar with ground willow bark. There's nothing wrong with the kid, nothing's infected. But he can use some mild painkillers, probably.
"The question is why the hell can they not hear what we're saying when we're at their altars here? I talked to Minerva about the fight after the battle at her altar in the Complex. I've heard other people talking to their patrons. What's different?
"They bring us here on their altars. They're listening enough to grant prayers. They're listening and watching close enough to gossip about us. So why couldn't they say anything with the animals we brought to them until people went out and tossed the crap into their temples?"
Ezekiel watches House work but he's clearly thinking, chewing the problem over.
"Maybe there's rules. Maybe it's considered cheating, like, some weird bizarro god rules that never make sense and are just annoying, really? Like in Stargate. Or Star Trek."
He hums, rubbing the back of his neck. "Or they only hear prayers but asking for information isn't prayers? Or the Courtyard is camouflaged. We could stage a fight there and then go ask the gods 'hey, uh, did you see that because if not your tv might be broken'?"
The staged fight isn't actually a bad idea and House mulls that over as he hands a cup to Ezekiel. "Go and fill this from that basin the middle of the room." He nods toward it. It's just a water basin they keep filled with clean water for use in the clinic.
"Might try asking at the altars and the temples both, see if that gets any different responses. If they do have rules, they're arbitrary as all hell."
"We can maybe get an idea of who from the libraries. There's not much on the Titans, but there are a few books that at least go over their domains." Research! Intelligence is way sexier than scars, Ezekiel.
Except back home he has other people to do the reading for him.
He hands him the cup and slinks down on the stretcher again with a petulant expression on his face. But he's not entirely adverse to the idea. Because a library does sound like home, one of the reasons he has been avoiding it so far.
"I guess we could check if there's a surveillance Titan in there somewhere."
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"The question is why the hell can they not hear what we're saying when we're at their altars here? I talked to Minerva about the fight after the battle at her altar in the Complex. I've heard other people talking to their patrons. What's different?
"They bring us here on their altars. They're listening enough to grant prayers. They're listening and watching close enough to gossip about us. So why couldn't they say anything with the animals we brought to them until people went out and tossed the crap into their temples?"
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Ezekiel watches House work but he's clearly thinking, chewing the problem over.
"Maybe there's rules. Maybe it's considered cheating, like, some weird bizarro god rules that never make sense and are just annoying, really? Like in Stargate. Or Star Trek."
He hums, rubbing the back of his neck. "Or they only hear prayers but asking for information isn't prayers? Or the Courtyard is camouflaged. We could stage a fight there and then go ask the gods 'hey, uh, did you see that because if not your tv might be broken'?"
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"Might try asking at the altars and the temples both, see if that gets any different responses. If they do have rules, they're arbitrary as all hell."
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Ezekiel gets up and fills the cup, not bothering to fix his tunic for the short trip.
"Sometimes you just gotta roll with it. But if someone is looping the video feed we should definitely try and find out."
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Except back home he has other people to do the reading for him.
He hands him the cup and slinks down on the stretcher again with a petulant expression on his face. But he's not entirely adverse to the idea. Because a library does sound like home, one of the reasons he has been avoiding it so far.
"I guess we could check if there's a surveillance Titan in there somewhere."