"And you must be the exemplar," he raises an eyebrow, "of maturity."

You can kick him down, but he'll get right back up. Ideally. Well, at least in this case. (How much punch can a cripple pack?) Readjusting the chair, Amory scoots it forward to reclaim his unwavering station in front of House's desk. In fact, he scoots even closer, leaning forward to make his determination known, if it wasn't already.

"Chase isn't my doctor. He's a friend. The distinction's important." He folds the paper neatly, and sets it in his lap. "I don't have a doctor, and I don't want one."