078. Diagnosis

[vicodincrutch]

My fall-guy.
My dingo.
My care bear.
My pain in the ass.
My leprechaun.
My lunch.
My clinic, my rules.

...My God is this getting old.

[ooc; bbl! I'll pick up backdated tags!]

Comments

[thenormalsquint]

The dingo is mine.

[vicodincrutch.livejournal.com]

Do you pay him?

[thenormalsquint]

In more ways than one.

[vicodincrutch.livejournal.com]

And he pays you of course. I don't need to ask, that's the given.

[thenormalsquint]

Yes, yes, yes. I know. I'm a hooker with a heart of gold. Mind coming up with a new insult?

[vicodincrutch.livejournal.com]

Heart of gold? I never said that. You must make bank to afford that.

[thenormalsquint]

Ah, but you did, during that fateful clinic visit. I remember these things, House.

[vicodincrutch.livejournal.com]

Because between then and now you've cultivated some hard hitting comebacks just waiting to be launched.

[thenormalsquint]

No, because that would suggest I think about you in my off time.

I'm just here to say that my name is all over Robert in Sharpie ink for a reason. I staked my claim. Get your own Australian.

[vicodincrutch.livejournal.com]

Suuuuure.

Does he know that you think he's bisexual?

[thenormalsquint]

I don't, but if he is, that's okay. So am I. I just don't want to be labeled.