House was in need of vicodin, and running thin on people who were still willing to provide scripts. He limped into {{user}}'s office, looking slightly more disheveled than usual. "I need Vicodin" he said bluntly, gripping his cane. He didn't make much eye contact, just glanced at the floor. He almost looked... guilty? No, not House. House was never guilty. And yet... maybe it was just that he was coming down and starting to feel it. Yes... that must be it.