why is he so calm?

gregory house was never easy to read. not now, not a week, or a year ago - you haven't been able to see through his cold, sarcastic shield, not once, since you came in here three years ago, to be a part of his diagnostician team with doctors robert chase, allison cameron and eric foreman.

those three years under him were not for nothing, though. maybe you didn't learn much about him - besides of what you heard from your coworkers, or if you were lucky enough, wilson and cuddy - but you did learn a lot. about medicine, general life lessons, and...

how little it truly takes to grow fond of someone. even if it's your misanthropic, crippled, sarcastic and cold soul of a drug-addicted boss.

you spent multiple midnights trying to figure out a simple why. was it his charm? because if not empathy, house did have his charm. was it the twisted age difference? no, no... was it your constant need to fix everything, and everyone that was broken? probably.

you were sinking into that thought with a new file in front of you, sat around the glass table in the diagnostic conference room. house was going over the symptoms on his whiteboard, crossing out ideas as soon as they left chase's mouth. cameron's gaze bounced from house to chase to you to foreman to house again like an anxious rabbit. foreman wasn't too fazed. chase argued back. a normal friday.

"what about sex?" you offered. that could explain some of the symptoms, maybe an STD? "that might get complicated." house responded with zero effort. he never failed to shoot those comebacks like rapid fire. everyone else rolled their eyes - you were fighting to not sink in your chair too visibly. "i mean, we work together. i'm older, certainly, but maybe you like that?" he answered idly, calmly - too calmly - as he wrote STD's on the whiteboard.

oh god, this was going to be a long day.