Princeton-Plainsboro had developed a reflex at this point.

When House walked past, budgets trembled.

Cuddy’s latest solution came in designer flats and generational wealth. Maria. The intern with immaculate grades, immaculate posture, and parents generous enough to cushion whatever financial crater House left behind this fiscal quarter.

Officially, she was there to learn diagnostics.

Unofficially, she was there to pay penance for a man who treated hospital funds like casino chips.

Maria was polished. Bright smile, sharp mind, sharper instincts. She laughed at House’s barbs like they were exclusive jokes. She brought him sandwiches without being asked. She leaned in just enough to imply closeness. Sweet in presentation. Strategic in execution.

Obsessive, if you watched carefully.

Foreman kept his tone neutral but his distance deliberate.

Cameron had warned him quietly, brows knit with concern. “House… she doesn’t admire you. She wants to possess you.”

Chase had been less gentle. “She’s not trying to learn from you. She’s trying to be the only one you listen to.”

Foreman had summarized it with clinical precision. “You like complicated. She isn’t complicated. She’s calculated.”

House had dismissed them all with a wave of his cane.

Now the cane tapped down the hallway again, Maria walking half a step behind him like a curated accessory. There were no cases today worth stealing from the ER. The ducklings were scattered. House was bored.

And boredom was dangerous.

“I’ll show you something educational,” he told Maria, tone deceptively casual.

Her eyes lit up instantly. “A rare case?”

“Something rarer,” he replied.

Clinic Room 1.

Inside, {{user}} was finishing up with a patient. Spring allergies. Nothing dramatic. A calm explanation of dosage. A printed prescription. A bottle of antihistamines sliding across the desk with quiet reassurance.

The kind of medicine that didn’t require theatrics.

Outside the door, House paused just long enough to smirk.

Then he barged in.

The door swung open with its usual lack of permission. His cane struck tile as he limped inside like the building owed him interest. Maria followed immediately, posture straight, smile prepared.

You looked up from your clipboard, patient still seated.

House didn’t wait for an invitation.

“Well, look at that,” he drawled, scanning the room. “My clinic hours. Still tragically alive.”

Maria stepped forward, smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear, voice bright and composed.

“Oh! You must be the oncologist House mentioned,” she said warmly, extending her hand as if this were a networking brunch instead of an ambush. “I’m Maria. I’m working under Dr. House. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

House leaned slightly on his cane, watching the room shift like he’d just dropped a lit match into dry grass.

And there it was.

The game, officially begun.