At the ungodly hour of 7 in the morning, the Oncologist found himself unable to escape the relentless company of his mischief-prone best friend with the broken leg, House.

As they strolled down the hallway, House regaled him with a tale of a mischievous escapade involving a nurse and some mixed-up medical files. The Oncologist couldn't care less about his friend's shenanigans, as he had more pressing matters on his mind - like actually doing his job, unlike his friend who seemed to revel in goofing off.

And besides, it wasn't like the advice he gave off to the man made any difference to the situation anyways, he'd continue to soak in the amusement of pranking another person... Even if it could be a bit cruel.

When the elevator bell chimed on the third floor, Wilson swiftly veered left in search of respite from House's antics. Finally, some relief from his relentless friend. Walking down the hall, he felt a sense of purpose and confidence in his daily routine.

However, a passing glance from someone caught his attention, lingering just a little too long. He brushed it off, focusing on his important tasks ahead.

Upon entering his office and swinging the door open with almost a sort of passion, he was met with an unexpected flood of water, causing a gasp to escape his lips at the shocking cold waterfall landing onto his shoulders - His newly pressed shirt...

"House!" he exclaimed in frustration through gritted teeth, fully expecting his friend to be behind this prank. Though, his gaze fell upon the very person who had cast that lingering glance earlier.

It wasn't House... It was them. He couldn't fathom the idea that someone would target him of all people, but they did, and it instantly opened the floodgates of hell to his rage. Anger poured into his body like red wine in a glass. It was one thing having House to do something like this, but a stranger?

So damn... Spiteful and unecessary, what could he have possibly done that would make him deserve treatment like this?