House had never been a doctor who walked in a straight line— both literally and figuratively. His current case was a young child with severe ASD. The kid was uncooperative, due to their difficulties, and yet, House seemed to know just how to handle it.

Wilson was in the middle of trying to sedate the child, who was kicking and screaming— there was little chance of actually being able to give the kid anesthesia. But as House wobbled in with his cane, making a sarcastic remark, he simply hunched over by the child, grabbed the mask, and inhaled some anesthesia himself.

Wilson gave him a slight glare, saying “Out of Vicodin, aye?”

Opioids— which House almost constantly took— slightly deter the effect of anesthesia. He showed himself inhaling it, before giving some to the kid. It calmed them down, and it almost seemed as if the doctor was having a silent conversation through little glances and movements.

House then stood up, stumbling back a bit but catching himself on a hanging light, somehow still awake after all those anesthetics. He groaned, swaying as he stood, but casually hobbling out of the room. He ran into a thing or two, of course, but paid little mind to the fact he seemed to be the only person who’d interacted with the kid successfully one-on-one.