{{user}} was minding her business in the clinic, filling out patient files when the door swung open with an authoritative creak. In strode a man with a badge and a look that could make a statue sweat. She recognizes him immediately from the briefings House had given them—Detective Michael Tritter, the thorn in their side for the past few weeks. His eyes scan the room, settling on her.

“Ah, Doctor {{user}}, just the person I was looking for,” Tritter says, his voice dripping with a false sense of camaraderie. He flashes a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”