Hike!
Hey.
So, uh, what did you want?
It's too late now.
Too late for what?
I'll tell you later.
Come on, the bell just rang.
We still got time.
I'm ready.
Uh, you sure?
Yeah.
Why now, all of a sudden?
What, you don't want to anymore?
Yeah, I do.
I'm just wondering what changed your mind.
You did.
Now?
If you want.
Excuse me.
You two need to come with me.
- Take a seat. - But we didn't—
You know you're not supposed to be back there.
We weren't doing anything.
That's not what it looked like to me.
Principal Fields will be back
as soon as the assembly is over.
Ms. Washburn, please, if I get one more referral, my mom—
Bench.
Who put sand in her vagina?
== Sync, corrected by elderman == == for www.addic7ed.com ==
Hey, kids.
How you boys doing?
Uh, can we help you?
I certainly hope so.
You know what this is?
A laptop?
Password-protected laptop
that I need you nerds to hack into.
No insecticides or toxic cleaners.
Check the bathroom.
Who are you?
Your roommate's doctor.
You remember your roommate, don't you?
I thought he just had bronchitis.
That's what the morons
at the Rutgers Student Medical Center thought,
which may be part of the reason he just coughed up a lung.
What do you mean, he coughed up a lung?
He coughed...
After which the respiratory organ
which resided in his chest resided in his mouth...
Actually, his hand.
Well, his mouth, then his hand.
Bathroom's clean.
- What's in this? - Just soda.
- Mind if I have some? - You want my drink?
You got a problem with that?
Uh, yeah.
Actually, I do.
You barge into our room,
start looking through our personal, private stuff,
demand I hack into a computer
I think I can safely assume doesn't belong—
Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration?
Please continue.
You were talking about personal privacy.
What, you're finished?
Well, allow me to retort.
Wait a second.
You're saying this actually happened?
Absolutely.
You're lying.
Interesting theory. Can you prove it?
Doctors don't carry guns.
They don't shoot people,
and they definitely don't search patients' homes.
Plus, I've seen Pulp Fiction—
the movie you're totally ripping off.
Huh.
Wait, uh, was it Timmy Morgan?
I have no idea. It had to be him.
He's, like, totally obsessed with old movies.
Pulp Fiction is not an old mov—what?
So you're here to talk
to the principal about something Timmy did?
I got no problem with Timmy.
And even if I did, I ain't no snitch.
Then why are you here?
To dig myself out of a hole.
Instead I dug a bigger one.
What'd you do?
What happened to your eye?
It's none of your business.
Actually, it's none of yours. I'm a doctor.
It's a few days old,
so that's not why you're here,
unless you two got busted for some sort of revenge plot.
But then you'd look angry instead of... ashamed.
I'm not ashamed.
Interesting.
You defensively insist that you're not ashamed,
which, of course, means you are ashamed.
And yet, you're the victim.
You want to know how she got the black eye?
Tell us why you're here first.
Anyone ever tell you you're annoying?
No.
Yes, all the time.
But he's right.
You want to know? You first.
I didn't kill anybody.
I have to be here, so I figured
I'd punch up the stakes in the first act.
But we did, and almost always do,
search the patient's home.
And if we tell them first,
then they can hide something that we need to know
in order to figure out what's wrong with them.
Why would they hide something that could be killing them?
Because they are morons.
They're all morons, and everybody lies.
Wait, if everybody lies,
then that means you're lying right now.
I didn't say everybody always lies... Aristotle.
And on that note, unless there are any questions...
Good.
Oh, Dr. Hourani...
Before you finish,
maybe you could describe what you actually do.
You know, like if someone comes in for a routine physical?
You want routine?
Please.
It just feels kind of, like, numb.
You do a lot of bicycle riding?
No.
How long have you been married?
It's 12 years next month.
You have six kids.
Mm-hmm.
Well, you don't think it could have
anything to do with that, do you?
Probably.
How often do you use your vibrator?
Excuse me?
Your battery-operated Brad Pitt.
After giving the gift of life
to six eight-pound, four-ounce wrecking balls,
I think I can safely assume it's an industrial-strength model?
Dr. Hourani, please.
You wanted routine.
Am I done?
Maybe we should just move on.
No problem.
I meant with your typical day.
I assume you see more than one patient?
Nope.
Okay.
Then I guess we will move on to our next guest.
Wait, if you only see one patient,
what do you do the rest of the day?
Dr. Hourani?
Just in time for lunch.
By lunch, you mean a conference call with the board,
and by just in time, you mean, 20 minutes late.
I meant sex...
Fine, lunch.
How about we start with a small tossed salad?
As of this morning, I'm on a diet.
Meaning?
I told you, I'm busy.
No, you told me you were supposed to be busy
20 minutes ago.
But you were obviously able to put them off then,
there's no reason you can't put them off now.
How about, "I wanted to then,
and now I don't"?
Get your finger off my phone.
We obviously have something we need to discuss.
Now is not a good time.
If you're mad because you don't feel
you're getting the necessary amount of affection,
all you have to do is ask.
Seriously, not now.
If memory serves, I enjoyed a healthy Sunday brunch.
So your insinuation—
Ow!
- What is your problem? - You!
You are my problem.
You are the most selfish, self-centered son of a bitch
on the face of the planet.
And I'm sick of it.
I'm just... done.
I can't deal with you anymore.
So that's what a typical doctor does on a typical day.
Any questions?
What's a vibrator?
Why was your girlfriend so mad?
It doesn't matter.
Well, obviously it matters.
I mean, if she's your girlfriend,
you should care how she feels.
I mean, it doesn't matter to the story.
It's the most important part of the story.
It's the only thing that does matter.
You don't kiss her enough— is that the problem?
Absolutely not.
Which, by your definition, means it is.
We kiss plenty.
Your turn.
Then what's the problem?
Your turn.
What's the problem?
Excuse me.
When exactly will the commandant be back?
Shouldn't be much longer, sir.
Well?
Oh, so now you're not gonna talk.
That's real mature.
All right, fine.
We got busted for kissing behind the school.
Now you know why we're here.
So tell us why you're here.
The deal was about the black eye.
And we didn't kiss.
So you were just making him beg, huh?
I didn't have you pegged as a tease.
I'm not a tease.
The available evidence suggests otherwise.
I'm not a tease.
Prove it...
By—by telling me your story.
You're a pathetic loser, jerk!
And I wouldn't kiss you if I had brain cancer
and your lips were the cure!
She actually said that?
- Well, yeah, that was, like, two days ago. - It doesn't matter.
I clearly didn't lead him along or anything like that,
which proves I'm not a tease.
So why is your girlfriend mad at you?
I'm getting a kind of bossy vibe.
I take it you're into that.
Don't answer!
Your turn.
What seems to be the problem, sir?
I'm having more difficulty breathing
and some pain in my chest.
You're new, aren't you?
Uh, yeah, I just moved from Chicago.
Chicago's awesome. What part are you from?
We need to get a chest C.T.
Excuse me, I'm the senior team member,
which means we don't need anything
unless I say we need it.
- Do you want to have an affair? - You want to have a threesome?
You can't talk to her like that. I'm telling Cuddy.
We need a chest C.T.
Get it yourself.
Isn't that, like, sexual harassment?
Not if you're good-looking.
Excuse me?
You said the one guy was short with a big nose.
Guess that's not the only thing that's big.
What does that mean?
It means he's lying... again.
Because you can't handle the truth!
That's so easy.
A Few Good Men.
Okay, I give up.
I think we should move on
to our next guest.
Mr. Dryden...
Uh, works for one of the largest advertising agencies
in New York City. Boring! Boring!
Can we at least hear what happened to the patient?
If Dr. Hourani promises to—
Patient's dead.
Floor is yours, Don.
Dave.
He's not dead.
You said earlier he was still in the hospital.
- What's wrong with him? - He's got a cough.
You said he coughed up a lung.
- What about the laptop? - Who cares about the laptop?
Yeah, and he already said he was lying about that, you moron.
Gabe...
- We do not use that word here. - He did.
Yeah, and I was talking about people like you.
Ooh.
Dr. Hourani, please,
could you just finish, quickly, so we can move on?
I don't know what's wrong.
He was stable for a while, and then all of a sudden, he just—
Bronchial infection must be
from a drug-resistant strain.
O-2 sats are plummeting.
We need to get him on a bronchodilator
before he goes into respiratory arrest. Suction, sit him up.
Start blow by oxygen.
What is that?
I think it's his...
It's his lung.
That actually happened?
Yes, it really happened.
I take cases that other doctors fail to diagnose,
which is why I only take one at a time.
My current patient is a college student.
He's actually in the hospital right now.
And, yes, he really did cough up a large portion
of dead lung tissue.
How's that even possible?
That's what she said.
No, she did literally say that.
How's that even possible?
Primary squamous carcinoma could cause
lung tissue to basically disintegrate.
It's not cancer. F.O.B. was normal.
It's not an infection either.
Broad-spectrum antibiotics haven't had any effect.
Who password-protects a computer
they keep in a locked desk in a locked office?
Someone who works with someone who thinks it's okay
to break into other people's homes?
An amebic liver abscess could rupture
through the diaphragm into the thorax.
Not when his liver-function tests are all normal.
His dorm mates are computer science majors.
If they're fabricating chips, they could be working
with all kinds of different toxic solvents.
We need to search the dorm.
"We"?
Oui. Allons-y.
While we're out,
do a thorascopic lung biopsy
and a c-ANCA,
because it's sarcoidosis.
But if you think it's sarcoidosis, why are you...
So you really did force his roommate
to hack into the laptop?
Why would I lie?
But whose laptop is it?
It's your girlfriend's, isn't it?
She's not my girlfriend.
I'm just interested in her because she's a client,
and she sleeps above her covers—
four feet above her covers.
What?
Ghostbusters.
So that's why she's so mad—
you looked through her computer?
No, that part happened after she got mad.
First she got mad.
Then I stole her computer to fix things.
And then we got the case.
Wait, so you tried to fix your relationship
by stealing her computer?
Well, when you say it like that...
Yes.
Looks like you're the moron.
Ooh!
I can also get three sets of golf clubs in there.
No way.
You didn't get her laptop
by blowing down the door of her office.
That's from Thunderbolt and Lightfoot.
Just seeing if you're still paying attention.
It was actually more subtle.
The Thomas Crown Affair—
the Steve McQueen version.
Just tell us the truth already. Excuse me.
But there are others here who would like a chance to speak.
Go right ahead.
No!
Audience is always right.
Luke.
It wasn't me.
Ma'am, are you okay?
Can you hear me?
Ooh, what's that smell?
Ugh.
Smells like a gas leak.
Call Dr. Cuddy.
You poisoned a room full of patients
so you could steal your girlfriend's laptop?
I didn't poison anybody.
I spilled some hydrogen sulfide and ammonia on the floor,
thinking the stench would clear the place out.
But instead of breathing through his nose,
some idiot decided to hold his breath.
He passes out, and before I know it,
the place is a perfect storm of mass hysteria...
Although it worked out just as well.
They're morons.
Agreed.
No, not the patients, the kids.
It doesn't matter how you stole it.
What matters is why.
You know, you're starting to remind me of someone.
I didn't ask how you stole it. I asked why.
Isn't it obvious?
You think you can tell why she's mad
by reading budget spreadsheets
and per diem schedules?
I know why she's mad.
What I need to know is how to make her un-mad.
And step one is gaining access
to the journal on her laptop,
where she records her innermost thoughts...
Instead of just watching porn with me.
Oh, grow up.
If porn was bad, why would there be so many nuns in it?
Why is she mad?
I was myself,
which, by the way,
she's supposed to love unconditionally.
I didn't do anything.
We had a great weekend.
Went to a Blues club, we watched Cinderfella on DVD.
And?
It doesn't matter.
She's being unreasonable, and I have to fix it.
I need to know what's really important to her.
- I need something big. - Because?
We're past that.
Have you tried childhood pet names?
I don't know her pets.
She's never mentioned a pet?
Well, yeah, but I wasn't listening.
She's not mad because I don't remember a dead dog's name.
Her first dog was Ronaldo.
Is that R-o or R-e-y?
I didn't ask. Try both.
Just got a case from the E.R.
Rutgers student came in
with what looked like acute bronchitis.
But there's nothing in his blood or sputum cultures.
Don't you think it's time you people
stop looking to the white man to solve all your problems?
His O-2 sats are in the toilet.
If we don't figure out what's attacking his—
So figure it out!
I'm busy.
That can't be true.
Why not?
'Cause if he was dying— I mean, you're a doctor.
Patients die every day.
Not all of them are interesting.
You still haven't answered either question.
She was mad because she's genetically programmed
to make a big deal out of every little thing.
So she's mad 'cause she's a girl.
And now she's mad because she's programmed
to make a big deal out of every little thing.
Actually, she's not like that. Why are you sticking up for her?-
She says you're a pathetic jerk and she hates you.
That was a long time ago.
It was two days ago.
And it wasn't even true then.
- How do you know? - Because I know how you think.
Really?
Really.
Really?
Hey.
Uh, and no peck on the cheek.
It has to be on the lips.
Winning a bet to force her to kiss you
actually cuts against your theory
that you know how she thinks.
I wasn't forcing her to do anything
that she didn't want to do.
You're hoping for a career in the NBA or the NFL?
The bet let her do what she wanted to do
while still being able to act like she didn't,
so her friends wouldn't get all, like,
calling her a slut or something.
Not that it's slutty or anything.
It's just a kiss.
Not even close to true.
I just couldn't believe I'd lose.
Ah, now we're getting somewhere.
No, we're not.
Oh, I thought we were.
No, you thought we weren't,
and that's exactly what you want,
because you don't want to tell us why was she mad at you!
You tell us you don't want to do your job
because you're too busy trying to break
into your girlfriend's laptop to figure out a way
to make her not mad at you.
But you don't tell us
why she was mad at you.
It's stupid.
Talk.
I'm out of here.
Unless...
Rachel's gonna be up soon.
Well, you never know.
Yes, I do.
Can you take the garbage out before you go?
Uh, I-I-I would, but...
Oh, come on.
It's not a lot.
Pain's always worst first thing in the morning.
Mommy!
You used her toothbrush?
That's so gross.
What's the big deal?
It's not like she had a problem
swapping spit the night before.
Well, maybe it's not the swapping spit
that bothers her, but the fact that you don't listen to her.
Had she warned you not to do it?
Oh, I listen to her.
But you just said before that you didn't.
No, I said I didn't remember what she said.
No, you said you don't listen—
I listen to her.
Okay?
Believe me, I listen.
It's my toothbrush,
and it's not just once.
And it's not like I'd even care,
but you totally destroy it.
You're supposed to brush with it,
not gnaw on it like a rawhide bone.
I think Miss Four Cavities' time
would be better spent copying Mr. No Cavities
instead of complaining about him.
And given what I'd just been doing,
I thought you wouldn't want me going out to dinner
without a good brush and a floss.
Would you please just use the toothbrush I bought you?
Would you please just shut up and watch the movie?
I said, "please."
Why would you have to brush your teeth
before you go to dinner?
You don't want to know...
Yet.
You're gross and dumb.
You listen to what she says
just so you can tell her how wrong she is.
You are clueless and naive.
I have to tell her that she's wrong,
'cause no one else will.
She's the boss,
which means she's surrounded by morons
who are either afraid of her,
or they want to kiss up to her,
or they want to...
Kiss her.
But not you. I already kissed her.
And I respect her enough not to treat her
like some tender blossom who needs to be coddled.
Makes sense to me.
That's what you think you did?
Yeah, totally.
You mean...
Wha—
you?
No, I didn't punch her.
You're a moron.
I didn't mean to.
The stick had wicked heel curve.
Did I mention you're a moron?
Okay, you just said it's wrong
to treat your girlfriend like she's weaker than you.
I'm not talking about trying to score.
I'm talking about shooting high.
Tennis shoes on a wooden floor?
She obviously can't butterfly and cover the low corners.
Your turn.
The laptop.
I must be in the midst of a complex partial seizure,
'cause I know you are not sitting at my desk.
Sorry. Ran out of lotion in mine.
Get the hell out of here.
Can't. This is the only place left
that Cuddy'll never look for me.
And I still haven't found what I'm looking for.
Well, I can tell you, what you're about to find
is my foot in your ass.
I don't think we've got enough lotion for that.
How did you even get in here? The door was locked.
Well, either I can walk through walls, or...
We have liftoff.
Is that Cuddy's journal?
No, it's a freelance piece I'm writing for Teen Vogue.
No, no, no. Let me see that.
Sorry, got to go.
Key.
I got to give you one thing, Hourani.
Your wife— she's beautiful.
I mean, wow.
Thank you.
House!
Wait.
I thought you were Dr. Hourani.
Yeah, who are you?
So that's why you're here?
Well, that was stupid.
I know.
Mr. Stupid-Head at your service.
Where are you now? In the principal's office.
House, we don't have time for games.
Pet scan was negative for sarcoidosis. Great.
Means the treatment's already working.
It would if we'd actually started the treatment,
but we didn't. Why the hell not?
Because it's not sarcoidosis.
If you were here, you would know that.
He's dying.
What's left of his lung is collapsing.
F.N.A. of the mediastinal— i don't care about the F.N.A.
What I care about is how he responds to the treatment.
House. Just do it.
Sarcoidosis...
Is a diagnosis of exclusion,
which means that the cowards who spend their time
excluding what it isn't usually cause their patients
to die from what it is.
I don't get it.
- Why would you lie about your name? - Who cares?
What did she write in her journal?
Thank you.
That is exactly my point.
Why does no one ever believe me?
What?
Just because he's dying doesn't make it interesting.
You cheated on her, didn't you?
No, I didn't cheat on her.
It's obviously more than just you used her toothbrush
and wouldn't take the garbage out.
No, actually, it was exactly that.
I just need some time alone.
Because I used your toothbrush?
And you wouldn't take out the garbage.
That's insane.
You know that, right?
You do whatever you want, always.
I said I was sorry. I was—
I was still half asleep. I wasn't paying attention.
And you're always right.
And I don't mean you always think you're right.
But y-you are actually always right,
because that's all that matters.
That doesn't even make sense.
What, you want me to be wrong?
I want you to care about more than just what you want,
what you think.
You need me, House.
And you may even love me.
But you don't care about me.
And I deserve someone who does.
That's what I said.
You don't listen to her.
You didn't say that.
Yes, I did.
Well, I wasn't listening, then.
But you found a way to fix things, right?
That's why you were happy when you read her laptop.
I did.
At least I thought I did.
She recently got the thin envelope
from her first choice preschool.
But it turns out it was her fake first choice,
'cause she was convinced she couldn't get her kid
into her actual first choice
without a substantial donation or an inside connection.
If it's Brye Park, I'm afraid she's right.
Wait, that's our school.
What other school would he be talking about?
Just finish the story.
You know, I got to tell you—
there is bossy, which can be sexy.
And then there's bitchy—
Finish the story.
You obviously know this
because you're on the school board,
which puts you on the inside,
and being the CEO here obviously connects you with Cuddy.
Well, if we're so connected, why isn't she the one asking?
Because she thinks it's wrong
to use connections to cut in line.
I don't.
I might be able to help. Fantastic.
But I could use a favor as well.
Where are you?
I needed to take care of something.
It's not a foreign body.
You must have missed it.
If we do any more imaging,
we're gonna have to add radiation poisoning to the DDX.
I meant the sarcoidosis.
The biopsy and c-ANCA
were both negative.
We're gonna have to do a pneumon.
No sign of drug or alcohol abuse.
He's not a smoker, a coal miner, or a potter—it's sarcoidosis.
Start him on corticosteroids and methotrexate.
If it's a drug-resistant bug, and we give him steroids—
He'll die,
which from the sound of it wouldn't be much worse.
You moron.
But you have to show him your I.D.
And your insurance stuff.
You can't just give him a fake name.
You don't have to do anything.
Last time I checked, this was still America.
Of course, that was ten years ago.
But you're gonna pay him, right? I mean, it was your fault.
A yellow light does not mean stop.
It was, at the most, 20% my fault.
Since insurance companies automatically put
100% of the fault on the rear-ender,
my little lie was actually an effort
to achieve an outcome closer to the truth.
And it would have worked, too,
if it weren't for those meddling kids.
I am Dr. Hourani.
Then why did you say the other doctor was Hourani?
It's, uh— it's a common name.
It's like Smith...
In Lebanon.
- Let me see your I.D. - I told you, I left it in my other pants.
Really? 'Cause it looks like it's still in this pair.
Get your hands off me.
Give me your I.D.
- Hey, would you stop that? - Give me your I.D.
Gentlemen, please.
Kids, stay calm.
Gimme your I.D.!
Stop this right now! Stay in your seats, kids.
Stay calm, you guys. Stay in your seats.
Gentlemen, please. This is not the time or place.
Is there a problem in here, Ms. Corwin?
Why don't you just take off?
It's not like the principal can call your parents.
No, but the principal can call the police
or the guy he's doing the favor for.
His girlfriend's obviously gonna find out.
He's screwed.
- I'd bolt. - No, you wouldn't.
Yeah, I would.
No, you wouldn't.
How do you know?
What's wrong?
I guess...
I don't want to do it like this.
Sorry for shooting the puck so hard
and tricking you in the bet.
- You didn't trick me. - Yeah, I did.
I gave Madison a Red Dead Revolver cheat code
so she'd hit your foot with the rope.
I knew you couldn't beat me.
You're right. It's just...
I really like you.
And I'm pretty sure you like me too.
But I don't want to play any more games.
When you want— I mean, if you ever want to,
just tell me you're ready,
and, you know...
Sorry.
Well done.
He's not always a jerk.
And neither are you.
She obviously likes you.
Just stop using her toothbrush and stop playing games.
She'll still like you.
She's bossy...
But she's usually right.
Thank you.
Dr. House, can I ask you a question?
Are you insane or just stupid?
Is there a third option?
Actually, I don't think there is.
I'm sorry. I-I just wasn't thinking.
I mean, I was, but only about myself,
which is apparently the way I am...
Usually, not always.
And I need to convince someone of that.
Mm-hmm.
And you think you can do that by getting someone
to pull strings to get her daughter into our preschool.
I spoke to Sanford Wells.
You can call the police.
You can turn me in for lying at the accident.
Oh, I'm sure Mr. Dryden has already taken care of that.
Let her daughter in.
She's a great kid, and Dr. Cuddy is a great mom.
They'll fit in perfectly here.
And how exactly does admitting her daughter
prove how unselfish you are?
Seems like you're still doing it to help yourself,
not anyone else.
I don't know.
I just know that I need to do something.
I need her in my life.
You know what it's like to actually need someone?
Yes.
I do.
But I also know what it's like to have responsibilities.
Maybe it's time you grew up.
Dr. House...
Is there anything you'd like to say?
Can I be excused?
It's just food.
Something small enough to go down the wrong pipe,
too big to get washed out by the bronchial lavage.
Wouldn't show up on a C.T.
But would cause the C.O.P.D.
And wouldn't respond to steroids or antibiotics.
Prep him for exploratory surgery
and start the betting.
Betting?
I got a hundred bucks says it's a pea.
I'm busy.
I know.
I just want to say that I'm sorry.
Shouldn't you be saying that to Sanford Wells?
A fifth-grade career day?
You really thought you could pull that off?
I figured, how hard could it be?
And I wanted to prove to you
that I do care about your needs
and Rachel's.
I do.
Is that why you also stole my computer?
Yes, it is.
And then threw it in the trash?
I did not throw it, I placed it,
knowing that the janitor would find it
and know it was yours and return it to you unharmed.
I'm a moron.
But that doesn't mean I-I don't care about you,
that I don't think about you,
that I don't want you to be happy.
I was wrong. You were right.
I can do better.
Just... give me a chance.
So what were you—
an Astronaut or a Bullfighter?
I was myself...
For the most part.
I know you're still upset,
so I'm gonna...
I'll leave you to—to deal with it however you want.
House.
You want to come over for dinner tonight?
I'd love to.
== Sync, corrected by elderman == == for www.addic7ed.com ==