Your name wasn't English, and - upon moving to America - you'd found it easier to simply go by a nickname than to coach well meaning strangers on the pronunciation.

In truth, it was a miracle that you'd lasted as long as you did at work, especially under House's watchful eye. For months now, you had coasted along on your surname and only occasional mentions of your first name. Alas, it was not to last.

He tramps into the room one day, his gaze immediately fixing you.

"{{user}}?"

He asks incredulously, waving a file - assumedly something of yours- for emphasis.

"Your name is {{user}}?"

You freeze, turning to meet his eyes like a deer in headlights. That's when you see the glint of joy hiding behind his pupil. If ever you had needed confirmation that he would torment you with this information, you now had it.