hi im an artist with free will and we got dr. damian working for dr. house
Dr. Wilson stares at House, flabbergasted. "Are you on the phone? Your patient is coding!"
House holds up a hand to Wilson. The nurses are handling the patient. What's he so freaked about?
The call connects. "Hey Wayne, fly any planes lately?"
"I don't know House, sucked any cocks lately?"
"Now with the pleasantries out of the way, I need you to -"
"I'm already inside the patient's home. There's mold behind her bed."
"Ah. Do they teach you breaking and entering at terrorist school?"
"Why? You looking for another degree? Too bad they don't accept deformed cripples."
"Their loss. Bring the samples."
"Please. I'm almost at the hospital."
The call disconnects. House turns to Wilson. "It was mold."
The patient lies on the bed, stabilized. Wilson gives House an exasperated look.
---
"Sorry, I can't make it to uh... What was it again?"
"Bros and board games night?"
"What the fuck... Why did you have to name it like that..."
"Shuddup, Dami. You got another medical emergency? Don't they have other doctors in that hospital? Surely, they can spare you for a night."
"It's not that. My boss needs me to break into the patient's house."
"Oh, yeah, that happens - wait what? Your who asked you to what?!"
"Tt. I'll talk to you later. Apparently, the patient is already coding. Incompetent buffoon. World's Greatest Doctor, my ass."
"Wait, Dami! What-" Click. Dial tone.
The infamous Dr. House accuses Damian of three things in quick succession: nepotism, terrorism, and faggotry in pretty much that order. It's nothing that Damian hasn't heard before, albeit never so directly to his face. The method of delivery spices up the same idiotic ignorance, but it remains idiotic and ignorant which simply begs the question of...
Why is this dope-brained doctor putting his dirty shoes on Damian's pristine desk? Honestly, after the fourth racist remark, Damian isn't even listening to this lauded Dr. House. His eyes are fixed on the scuff marks those sneakers are besmirching his desk with.
Dr. House shifts his legs and surreptitiously knocks over Damian's meticulously categorized ballpoint pens (arranged by the smoothness of each point). In that exact second, Damian vows in his heart of hearts - House's days in this hospital are numbered. Damian will see to his removal and replacement, by himself naturally. This blabbering buffoon messed with the wrong junior doctor.
"Helloooo! Is anyone there? Not only are you a nepo baby, you seem to be on some end of the spectrum. A diversity hire to boot!"
"I'm sorry were you speaking? I have this allergy against crackheads and crackers that causes my ear canals to swell and block their voices. Actually, now that I think about it, are you lost? The drug rehab center is about oh five blocks that way."
House blinks at him. "Oh. Oh. You and I are going to get along just fine."
