When the elevator doors opened, House stepped inside, listening as Foreman rattled on about additional symptoms, alternate interpretations, wishing he'd get to his point. Sure, he'd noticed all of that, and he'd considered inattentiveness; he might not visit patients all that often, but he read their files.
House had had his own ideas about a diagnosis. Lately, he'd been doing a lot of "secret diagnosing", forming his own ideas while giving his candidates a test-run. In this case, Lupus had been an actual possibility, even though Foreman was right to call it boring, and he'd wanted to rule it out, but Schilder's had crossed his mind, and as the day had worn on, seemed like the most fitting diagnosis. He'd been wondering how long it would take Foreman (or anyone else) to suggest it.
"Testing them," he said, when Foreman asked if he was being nice to the new kids on the block. "And you, too. It's about time." He reached for the couple dry-erase markers on the board's tray--Foreman apparently wanted one--and slipped them into the pocket of his blazer. "I was beginning to think you'd lost your edge."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-10-13 05:13 am (UTC)House had had his own ideas about a diagnosis. Lately, he'd been doing a lot of "secret diagnosing", forming his own ideas while giving his candidates a test-run. In this case, Lupus had been an actual possibility, even though Foreman was right to call it boring, and he'd wanted to rule it out, but Schilder's had crossed his mind, and as the day had worn on, seemed like the most fitting diagnosis. He'd been wondering how long it would take Foreman (or anyone else) to suggest it.
"Testing them," he said, when Foreman asked if he was being nice to the new kids on the block. "And you, too. It's about time." He reached for the couple dry-erase markers on the board's tray--Foreman apparently wanted one--and slipped them into the pocket of his blazer. "I was beginning to think you'd lost your edge."