114 Diagnosis

[vicodincrutch]

Stop trying to tote your wares. Make the time mean something. I don't want to see the contrived personality you think would be most presentable because chances are, it's false and disgusting. Think of a twinkie. Delicious, zero substance and once you know what's in it for real only the brave and stupid charge onward. I am brave, but I am not that stupid.

I can also see that this won't go anywhere if you're up for that kind of a game. You won't win.

[ooc; going to a charity show! be back much later to taaaaaaaaaaag <3 <3]

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[vicodincrutch.livejournal.com]

Because you haven't. In case you hadn't noticed, opportunity wants a date all over the place. [Ahem he'll try that again.] The dating pool is open. You're the type that everybody likes. So, how many pairs of panties have been thrown your way?

[That's something he can be proud of saying because it is true. Right. Moving on from that part of the discussion.]

Two out of...a few isn't bad.

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[dr_conscience]

I'm not sure I'd go that far. Still, let's see... hmm... carry the one... [He glances off to a side as he waves a finger around, air-penciling an equation. After a moment, he waves it off dismissively, as if scattering the imaginary numbers and operators.[ Well, really, it's not important.

[And Wilson scores one for saying things without hitting on his best friend.]

Two isn't bad. After all, most people don't appreciate you the way I do.

[And the score shifts again. Well played, curse. He wrenches his eyes closed, but he can only manage the slightest of sighs. Not quite the exasperated mess he feels inside.]

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[vicodincrutch.livejournal.com]

But of course, Casanova. [That's not surprising in the slightest. Ladies are all over that dough face, caring eyes. Ridiculous, deceiving. None of them know him like House knows him.]

I'm an acquired taste from the get go. You-[pointing included] have a bitter after taste that no one expects.

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[dr_conscience]

[He looks back with an arched brow, a quirk to the corner of his mouth that almost hits the proper degree skeptical annoyance but is reigned in by the curse. A glance is given to the pointed finger, and then back to House.

He bows his head slightly, about to talk... and pauses for a moment. He stops. Then starts again.]

I... can't argue with you. And when I say that I can't, I mean that literally. I'm incapable of doing so.

This is just the curse, isn't it? You didn't go and make a deal with the deities for this, did you?