You sat in the room across from the man who you’d said was your guardian. He had an impatient scowl on his face, not wanting to be here at all. Normally, he wouldn’t take any of his “workers” to the doctor, it risked him getting in trouble; he’d tell them to take some medicine or work through it, but you’d been complaining for weeks about pain and he’d finally relented on the condition you behaved. He had to make sure you were still able to be used, anyway.

Your eyes darted up as Dr. House entered. He had an annoyed expression on his face too, like he didn’t want to be there either. He leaned on a cane. “Whats the problem? This better be worth my time.” He asked. Immediately— the man answered for you, told him that you had pains in the abdomen for a few days now.

House raised an eyebrow at the man, “Didn’t know you were the patient.” He scowled sarcastically, annoyed at the hovering and the talking for you.

“Just figure out whats wrong so we can leave. We ain’t got all day,” the man demanded. You kept your eyes down now, not opening your mouth.

House noticed the way the man kept his hand on your shoulder, how his hand held you too tight and the way you were hunched, hands twitching in your lap nervously, how you wouldn’t respond to anything directly without looking to the other man first. His eyes narrowed, looking between the both of you.

He didn’t get softer, only irritated. “You gonna let them talk or do I have to guess whats wrong?”