forget your troubles, come on, get happy

[atrophied]

[ To those who have a journal open, you'll hear a particular song being whistled before it stops to be followed by a downright perky "Good morning!" The whistling resumes shortly after. For those present in the clinic, you will hear that and see House…smiling.

Cheerfully.

Uh... ]

Comments

[confidente]

You called me your friend.

keywords

[atrophied]

Because you are. You're my best friend here.

[confidente]

[ WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. ]

...You're serious? [ IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING? ]

[atrophied]

[ He's serious. Even looks mildly uncomfortable admitting to it. But he's still not hiding behind sarcasm and evasive mocking answers. ]

Why would I lie?

[confidente]

[ John stares at him, blinking, trying to find some semblance of laughter or something to tell him that House is pulling his leg and this is some sort of big joke. ]

Maybe not lie, but you wouldn't openly admit it.

[atrophied]

[ He shrugs. ]

I am now.

[confidente]

[ He's surprised, understandably so, House is being more honest than he's ever seen him be. Honesty and House are two things you never expect to see in the same room together. ]

Thanks...

[atrophied]

So. Game. You'll like it. It involves shooting.

[confidente]

...I think I'll pass.

[atrophied]

Come on. I need someone to cover me.

[confidente]

[ Thinking. Thinking. ]

Fine, but only for the jam tarts.

[atrophied]

Great! Let's get cracking!

[ Hauling him to the Playstation by the elbow~! ]

[confidente]

[ HE'S ONLY GOING FOR THE TARTS! That is all he cares about okay!! ]

[atrophied]

[ UH-HUH. SUUURE. YOU GET A TART AND A REMOTE. TRY NOT TO BLOW UP YOUR NEWFOUND FRIEND. ]

[confidente]

[ NO HE DOESN'T WANT A REMOTE, HE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO VIDEO GAME. ]