Head like a hole
Who: House, Foreman; open to all.
Where: House's apartment the day after he got drunk > Vogler Conference Room.
What: House wakes up in pain in more ways than one/House goes to teach the darn class (though will he actually teach anything is the question).
When: Wednesday 29th March, 2006; arrives to work 10.45AM, late for the class.
OOC: Because it's another class scene, I'll be doing what I did with the other class scene; writing it in segments. :)
The headache House had was excruciating the next morning.
He awoke with his face crushed awkwardly into the arm of the sofa, a thick line of drool caked onto his chin and when he tried to get off the sofa he felt his leg knotting up in a sharp twist of pain. It took every ounce of effort to push himself up to a sitting position and once he was, he squinted his eyes at the light filtering through the window, which felt like shards of glass spearing through his head, rocking back and forth slightly as he rubbed his hands into his leg.
House, feeling so groggy and uncomfortable, almost forgot why he felt that way until he forced his eyes to open more and they settled on the near-empty bottle of whisky on the coffee table. Everything came crashing back to him like the slam of a tonne of falling bricks.
Wilson…
I’ve fallen in love with you.
He clamped his eyes shut again. His head suddenly seemed to hurt more and the pain in his leg seemed to worsen. Giving his thigh a few more firm rubs, House then reached for his cane and stiffly pushed himself from the sofa, so stiffly he almost lost his balance. His head was swimming and the lingering, bitter taste of whisky in his mouth made his tongue and throat feel like they were covered in thick, wiry fur. He managed to make it to the bathroom, swallowing two Vicodin and two aspirin before he stumbled into the shower.
God, everything… everything reminded him of Wilson. The shower, the bedroom, the whole damn apartment. He scrubbed himself furiously, trying to scrub away the pain in his head and his chest, trying to scrub away the thoughts and memories and when got out of the shower he didn’t really feel any better. He fleetingly thought about deciding not to go to work, but he quickly squashed that idea -- what was he going to do if he stayed at home? No, that certainly wasn’t an option.
He dressed and then left his apartment without bothering to eat anything, shielding his eyes from the harsh mid-morning sun with his sunglasses. He somehow made it to work in one piece, arriving at work a little after 10.30. He was late for the class he was supposed to teach, but House quite frankly didn’t give a shit about that. His head was still pounding and his leg felt like it was in more pain than when he woke up when he entered the hospital, stiffly making his way to the Vogler Conference Room. On the way he noticed that the clinic was busy, but paid little heed to that otherwise. If anything, this class would be a distraction, no matter how much he didn’t want to be there.
Barging into the class, he ignored everyone who turned in their seats to see him making his way to the front of the room, sunglasses still on his face. He planned on not removing them the entire lecture. Probably not for the entire day. Maybe after this, he’d go and hide.
Reaching the podium, he dropped his bag by the desk and shrugged out of his jacket, every single move an effort to carry out. Carelessly draping his jacket over the back of the chair, he finally faced the class and gave them a cursory glance over before he pushed the chair out and sat down rigidly, and cradled his head in his hand.
“Are… are you okay, Dr. House?” one of the students asked him after a long stretch of awkward silence.
House kept his face buried in his hand, his finger and thumb now rubbing his temples. “Oh yeah,” he replied dryly. He looked up to the class, eyes squinting behind his sunglasses. He vaguely remembered something about Foreman coming to the class, though he couldn't see him anywhere. Maybe he was caught up in clinic, seeing it looked so busy. House's tone turned instantly vitriolic. “Never been better. But, you know, thanks for caring.”
Where: House's apartment the day after he got drunk > Vogler Conference Room.
What: House wakes up in pain in more ways than one/House goes to teach the darn class (though will he actually teach anything is the question).
When: Wednesday 29th March, 2006; arrives to work 10.45AM, late for the class.
OOC: Because it's another class scene, I'll be doing what I did with the other class scene; writing it in segments. :)
The headache House had was excruciating the next morning.
He awoke with his face crushed awkwardly into the arm of the sofa, a thick line of drool caked onto his chin and when he tried to get off the sofa he felt his leg knotting up in a sharp twist of pain. It took every ounce of effort to push himself up to a sitting position and once he was, he squinted his eyes at the light filtering through the window, which felt like shards of glass spearing through his head, rocking back and forth slightly as he rubbed his hands into his leg.
House, feeling so groggy and uncomfortable, almost forgot why he felt that way until he forced his eyes to open more and they settled on the near-empty bottle of whisky on the coffee table. Everything came crashing back to him like the slam of a tonne of falling bricks.
Wilson…
I’ve fallen in love with you.
He clamped his eyes shut again. His head suddenly seemed to hurt more and the pain in his leg seemed to worsen. Giving his thigh a few more firm rubs, House then reached for his cane and stiffly pushed himself from the sofa, so stiffly he almost lost his balance. His head was swimming and the lingering, bitter taste of whisky in his mouth made his tongue and throat feel like they were covered in thick, wiry fur. He managed to make it to the bathroom, swallowing two Vicodin and two aspirin before he stumbled into the shower.
God, everything… everything reminded him of Wilson. The shower, the bedroom, the whole damn apartment. He scrubbed himself furiously, trying to scrub away the pain in his head and his chest, trying to scrub away the thoughts and memories and when got out of the shower he didn’t really feel any better. He fleetingly thought about deciding not to go to work, but he quickly squashed that idea -- what was he going to do if he stayed at home? No, that certainly wasn’t an option.
He dressed and then left his apartment without bothering to eat anything, shielding his eyes from the harsh mid-morning sun with his sunglasses. He somehow made it to work in one piece, arriving at work a little after 10.30. He was late for the class he was supposed to teach, but House quite frankly didn’t give a shit about that. His head was still pounding and his leg felt like it was in more pain than when he woke up when he entered the hospital, stiffly making his way to the Vogler Conference Room. On the way he noticed that the clinic was busy, but paid little heed to that otherwise. If anything, this class would be a distraction, no matter how much he didn’t want to be there.
Barging into the class, he ignored everyone who turned in their seats to see him making his way to the front of the room, sunglasses still on his face. He planned on not removing them the entire lecture. Probably not for the entire day. Maybe after this, he’d go and hide.
Reaching the podium, he dropped his bag by the desk and shrugged out of his jacket, every single move an effort to carry out. Carelessly draping his jacket over the back of the chair, he finally faced the class and gave them a cursory glance over before he pushed the chair out and sat down rigidly, and cradled his head in his hand.
“Are… are you okay, Dr. House?” one of the students asked him after a long stretch of awkward silence.
House kept his face buried in his hand, his finger and thumb now rubbing his temples. “Oh yeah,” he replied dryly. He looked up to the class, eyes squinting behind his sunglasses. He vaguely remembered something about Foreman coming to the class, though he couldn't see him anywhere. Maybe he was caught up in clinic, seeing it looked so busy. House's tone turned instantly vitriolic. “Never been better. But, you know, thanks for caring.”