Except the US Attorney General tends to label that entrapment. Who knew? [ The way he says it might suggest that he has a little more experience with this situation than just having read about it through an interoffice memo of 'things not to do'.

At the question, Will reached up with both hands and scrubbed them over his face. With his eyes closed, all the images from his nightmares surged forward and for a couple of breaths, he tasted the coppery tang of too much blood.

He teetered, on the edge of tumbling towards the dark lure of nightmare and the last moments of his friend's life. It took more effort than he was comfortable admitting, in order to bring himself back to the room, with House.

Will's hands fell away, dropping to scrub anxiously at the fabric of his slacks. ]

Doubt anyone else would call it trouble. More like, cause to rejoice; break out the party hats and streamers.

[ His pacing paused once more and he gave his face a single handed brush over, before he continued. Because he understood the question House was asking. ]

It's like an anxiety dream. Where you know what you have to do, but you come up short of the mark and everything falls apart.