[OTA] Why waste money on psychotherapy when you can listen to the B Minor Mass?

[c18_h21_no3]

If there was one thing in this world House found unmitigated, immutable comfort in, it was his piano.

The ivory keys were always smooth under his fingertips, and the hammers always seemed to hit the strings with just the right velocity in just the right place to create quite possibly the most beautiful sound a baby grand piano could make, which at

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[chasemd]

With Peter due to be discharged the following morning, Chase hadn't just given Amber a few days off, he was taking a week off himself. He hadn't had any leave of this length since he took the job. Days here and there, but that was about it. Right now, he needed it. He left the Medical Centre in the capable hands of his 2IC, though he would have his pager within easy reach all the time. He was exhausted and figured he would sleep like a log that night. When he had finished his shift, Rob was resting with the aid of some sedatives, his vitals stabilised and Fox at his side. He would be able to go home soon, too, even if it would be with strict advice of bed rest and to take it easy for a little while longer.

He pushed his fingers through his hair and knocked on the door of House's room. He was maybe here for more than one purpose, but it was something he needed to do before he headed to bed after a long, hot shower.

[c18_h21_no3]

Ah... Damnit. Not even halfway through the song, and someone was there to bother him. He waited a moment, pausing to take another sip of his scotch and see if whoever the hell was at the door really wanted to talk to him. They'd knock again if they did. It was probably Wilson, and he could wait. They did knock again, though, and House sighed, scooting out from behind the piano, not even bothering to grab his cane from the other side of the couch before he limped for the door. Reaching for the doorknob, he peered into the peekhole.

Chase?

Opening the door, House furrowed his brow. Not even Cuddy came to his apartment to yell at him. Either Chase had the audacity to do so, or Rob took a dive and died unexpectedly. "I didn't order any, and I'm not interested in being saved by Jesus Christ."

[chasemd]

Chase merely shrugged. "Thank fuck. Never was into CPR with mere mortals, and I've got a miracle to get to at six am." He held up a six pack that had been tucked under his arm. "Got another on it's way from Room Service."

[c18_h21_no3]

House's look turned questioning, raising a brow. What was this for? "You're... giving me a six pack of beer? Or did you actually spike each of those with poison hemlock and plan on making me drink it for corrupting the youth and impiety?" he asked, almost uncertain.