025. Diagnosis

[vicodincrutch]

Do you know how much a bag of conversation hearts cost? Not even a bag, a box. A simple box where I'm from is less than a dollar. What does a dollar say? Cheap. Try getting into someone's pants with these puppies and you're looking into a cold, lonely Valentine's Day. Chocolate is what the women want. Not Milky Way--though you get your point across right there--run of the mill store crap.

Consider the amount of starch you're consuming. Blegh. There's a reason why those suckers and candy corn are more accessible only once a year.

The secret added raises the value. You can't converse with them. I'm sure plenty will spark.  So, tell me LOVE what's the news.

[ooc; Guess who doesn't realize there's a lil seekrit of his floating around?]

Comments

[dearprincess.livejournal.com]

Actually, on second thought, yes! Cuteness makes all the difference!

[vicodincrutch.livejournal.com]

Bless your blond little head.

[dearprincess.livejournal.com]

... um, thank you, I think.

... What's your name, by the way? I'm Sara.

[vicodincrutch.livejournal.com]

Sure.

Greg House. I'm a doctor.

[dearprincess.livejournal.com]

Are you teasing me? I can't quite tell.

Nice to meet you, House-san. A doctor? That's impressive.

[vicodincrutch.livejournal.com]

Yes. Yes I have been.

I do what I can.

[dearprincess.livejournal.com]

... oh! In that case, hey!

... You know, it's funny, I almost feel a weird deja vu, talking to you. But I'm pretty sure we've not met before.