Wandering around outside the bar

[a_phd_in_dance]

Dr. Cockroach is investigating a garbage can not far from the rear entrance to the bar. What? He's a cockroach. Even cockroaches have to eat. But, he's not specifically on a food hunt this time. He's trying to figure a way into his lab. Articles such as paperclips, keys, screwdrivers, even a set of lockpicks would be appreciated at this point

Comments

[yourtieisugly]

House's second day here? Kind of a non-event. By the time he'd found his office -- a perfectly replicated fascimile, anyway, right down to the last carpet fiber -- he'd been mostly innoculated to further surprises. Amber hadn't followed him into the office, thank god, and House had spent the better part of the afternoon in his chair, trying to will the icepick headache away from the front of his skull.

Evening had come and, well, here he was: back at the entrance of the bar because he can't think of anywhere else to go.

He's about to go in when he sees a thin pair of legs hanging out of the side of a can, wobbling like daisy stems. Soft, distracted muttering from the inside of the bin. House pauses, his hand on the door, wondering if the guy or the bin are going to go over first -- maybe both.

[a_phd_in_dance]

The spindly little legs wave about a bit, then a skinny-bodied man scoots out of the can - legs, hips, middle, and one slender arm, skinny fingers curling around the lip of the can.

"Ah ha!" declares the man as he pulls his head from the can. His very cockroach-like head with bug eyes and twitching antennae that pick up in the presence of another being nearby.

"Why, hello! Amazing things can be found in these," he says and kicks at the metal can with his seemingly undersized foot.

[yourtieisugly]

House's fingers tighten on the door handle. He knows what he's seeing. He's just not sure he's actually seeing it. As a kid, he had one of those simple paper kaleidoscopes with the falling beads, the ones that made everything look like a technicolour funhouse mirror. This was like that. On acid. During a Lynch film.

"God, why did I ever leave the asylum?" he mutters.

[a_phd_in_dance]

His antennae twitter about, tasting the air. He's still searching for additional tools to unlock the door to his lab.

He blinks large eyes back at the man standing nearly as tall as himself (only shorted by virtue of not having antennae). "I assume the reason would be because you no longer needed to be there. Would you happen to have a paperclip?" he adds. He found a small nail, but needs another tool to perform his lockpicking activities.