snowblindrpg | [log] Don't Try to Save Me [closed]

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[log] Don't Try to Save Me [closed]

Characters: Gregory House and Will Graham
Location: Building 124
Date: Night 293
Summary: House and Will meet up while House is staking out the church area and avoiding a potential witch-hunt.
Warnings: Will add as they come up!

[The house, covered in snow, is dark and cold, but better than outside. The snow presses in on the windows and makes the roof creak and groan whenever it shifts, but it seems to be holding up alright. It's a standard, single-story house with a living room, single bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and dining room. There's a bed frame in the bedroom, but it doesn't have a mattress. The house is sparsely furnished, unfortunately with mostly metal. There's a back door leading off into darkness of Hsiaoke Pass.

There's a blue smear on the bathroom cabinet. Xs have been carved into the cabinets in the kitchen. There are large smears of black spraypaint on the front and back doors. "Hsiaoke Pass" had been carved into the wall next to the back door, but it's been scratched off crudely with some sort of blade. It's been carved back in again nearby, deeply and with purpose. There's some additional graffiti.]

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[House snorts lightly and rubs his brow again. He can feel perspiration and there's nausea, though not as bad as when he'd been on a higher dose of Vicodin. The bed frame disassembly and now Will are providing a nice distraction to the pain running through him, as well. He keeps himself focused on that.]

I'm more newlywed than he is. One of the fun things about this place. People come in from different times. You get your Donner Party, he might not even know who you are, yet.

[ Oddly enough, of the many horror shows he'd witnessed over the years and the amount of times he'd been chemically altered, Will was not as experienced with drug abuse as one might think.

It took him up to the moment where House rubbed his brow, for the younger man to see the pallor to his skin, the sunken bruising beneath his cheekbones and eyes. The sweat. Even then, Will's mind didn't make the jump. After all, they all looked like shit these days. ]

I ... can't even imagine such a thing. [ Will eventually admitted. ] He asked me once, how I marked time and I told him that time for me fell into two categories; before him and after him.

We've been blurred for so long. [ He looked down and sighed, the glance giving him a quick look at House's other hand and ... was it, trembling? ]

[House quickly puts both hands on the ground, leaning back on them, to settle them. He would really like his evening hit--dose. The acepromazine, a pet sedative, occurs to him again, but he decides to wait until Will is out of the room if he's going to shoot up on that. It won't even be a high. It'll just put him to sleep.]

Ever consider just screwing the guy? Get it out of both your systems. 'Cause, dude, I dunno if you noticed, but you just sounded like a teenage girl there.

[ Though he wasn't particularly attuned to drug abuse, he was attuned to being lied to, both through actual conversation and body language. House's move was noted and brought Will's focus in even sharper, the hallucinations starting to fade as he began to study the doctor a little more closely. ]

I'd be lying if I said no. [ He answered honestly, then looked at House with annoyance. ] However, you lost story privileges when you invoked the teenage girl taunt.

[House rolls his eyes and wipes his brow again, trying to play it off as exasperation with Will.]

Oh, come on. Everybody's got that guy they go all fluttery around. Just usually not the guy who regularly tries to murder them. Me, it's Brain Jones or Mick Jagger. I wouldn't kick Freddie Mercury outta bed, either.

[ He's still watching and more importantly he's starting to feel it. The restlessness, the ache that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the gnawing need crawling through the veins.

It was odd, that in all these months he'd never noticed this about House before. How had he missed it? The question came to him and then flitted back out of his conscious thoughts before it had completely settled; like a leaf caught on the wind.

Regardless, Will considered his options and realized he didn't have many. There wasn't anything he could offer House, he didn't even have a bottle of aspirin and he doubted that bunny slippers would make much of an impact.

What he could do ... was talk. ]

Mick Jagger is a given. A little on the lean side, but there's a reason it's called 'moves like Jagger' and his mouth is intriguing. Add in that creative artist's soul and who wouldn't be curious?

Jagger or Prince? I don't mind lean. [They'll have more meat on them than him. And Will really is just a distraction for the moment. When he leaves, House will likely reassemble the bed, putting everything back into order, then check the network, then check--

There's a loud dinging sound from House's tablet, signalling the arrival of a new private message. The doctor snags his tablet from his pack and clicks on the notification. A voice plays back loudly:]

I'm so sorry, but Sherlock has left the building. If you'd like to leave a message--

[That gets shut off as House mutes the tablet. What wonderful timing. That didn't even sound like Sherlock. And if he's responding here, there's a good chance he's put something up on the wider network to announce his return.]

I think you probably wanna check the network tonight, Graham Cracker. Might find something interesting.

Edited 2017-10-27 04:10 (UTC)

That's a tough one but I'm going with Prince. Little Red Corvette and Raspberry Beret just stirs the imagination. [ He said and was that ... yes, yes it was, a cheeky wink.

But the humor fades from his expression like water spilling out of a glass when House's tablet dings and he watches the other man's response to whatever was written there.

Instead he tilted his head at the statement and then raised an eyebrow. ]

Do I get the movie trailer version first?

[House considers for a moment how obtuse to be. It's going to come out pretty quickly on the network, though.]

I killed a guy, and an experiment worked.

[And then he gets to the message Sherlock's put up as his focus is still down on his tablet.]

Also, we're gonna have to split up, like stat, if you like not being targeted by assassins by proximity.

[He's really not high enough to deal with this right now.]

[ Will just sat there for a moment, taking all that in. When he responded, it was in a remarkably calm tone. ]

How did we get from sleeping with Mick Jagger or Prince, to 'I killed a guy' in an experiment.

You really want to consider leading with these sorts of things, House.

[ And as for the last statement, Will just gave House a look. ]

Don't be dense.

First of all we can't split up stat because we're both locked in. Second, were you not listening to anything I said about the whole murder cycle habit I had back home?

Exactly how many people do you anticipate trying to assassinate you for this?

I meant tomorrow morning, jackass. [He gives Will a look. Don't you be dense.]

And this isn't a murder fun game for you and Donner Party. 'Murder cycle habit' doesn't equal I wanna die with some random guy because I was there when someone came to kill him.

How many depends entirely on how many the one guy who'd be hiring them can get on board. At least one'll probably do it for free. Also, who leads with 'I killed a guy in an experiment?' This is our first real date, Graham Cracker, I'm not gonna put everything on the table right off the bat. That's just gauche.

[His tone says casual, but his body has tensed up once more, and he licks suddenly-dry lips. It's easier to pretend at being completely fine with an impending painful death over text than it is in-person.

He switches Sherlock's messages to convert the voice to text so that he can respond to him while still talking to Will.]

[ Rolling his eyes, Will got to his feet. ]

Try not to do anything stupid in the next ninety seconds.

[ With that he would leave the room, heading for his pack.

He originally intended to dig through it for what he wanted, but in the end -with the niggling suspicion that House might do something stupid- Will just carried the whole thing back to the bedroom with him.

He was only gone thirty seconds.

Setting the pack down, he reached into it and drew out a bottle of wine. ]

Found this in a house after I got out of the tunnels. I was going to try to hang on to it, but it takes up a lot of space and tonight appears to be a proper medicinal need.

Edited 2017-10-27 17:58 (UTC)

[So mistrustful, William! House looks up when the other man returns and he hones in on the bottle of wine. Well, well, well.]

And I thought I was supposed to bring the alcohol. Sorry. Didn't grab any flowers, either.

[He does, however, reach into his own pack and pull out a magazine with monster trucks on the front. It gets tossed over near Will.]

Good article on engine repair in there for later. You can keep it. I've read that thing back to front enough times. And did you find a corkscrew to go with that bottle? Or are we using mine?

I was going to be a show-off and sabre it. [ He answered honestly, eyes tracking the magazine and Oooo, yes ... yes that was a suitable trade. ]

But a corkscrew would probably reduce the risk of getting glass in the wine.

[ Practicalities, for the moment at least.

He held the bottle out towards House. ]

Edited 2017-10-27 18:20 (UTC)

[House takes the bottle after tapping out another message to Sherlock.]

I would've been impressed.

[But all things considered, he prefers not having the glass in the wine. He pulls out a corkscrew from his pack and uncorks the bottle, waving it below his nose for a moment.]

Ah, yes. Hints of blackberry and oak.

[His pallet for wine isn't actually all that discerning, but he takes a pull from it before offering the bottle back to Will.]

I don't actually have glasses, unless you do.

[But he's assuming Will doesn't, hence the straight drink from the bottle. Once Will takes the bottle back, House checks the message Sherlock's sent back. Will will get a flash of anger and frustration before the doctor's expression smooths out and he begins typing again.]

[ The commentary on the wine earned House a flat look. But honestly, Will was no sommelier so he had no room to talk. Hannibal poured wine, Will drank the wine and wished it was whiskey, that was about the extent of it. ]

Didn't find any glasses. We'll have to risk cooties.

[ He took the bottle and made a show of downing a healthy swig. In truth he pinched his lips, only letting a dribble past. Most of this bottle was destined for House.

Lowering it, Will held it out, patiently waiting for House to finish typing and take it back. ]

[If House weren't incredibly distracted by how annoying Sherlock's being, he might actually make note of how little Will's taken on his swig. As it is, the tablet and ongoing withdrawal symptoms are splitting his attention.]

Circle, circle, dot, dot, is medically proven to prevent cooties.

[House takes another healthy swig before handing it back. His hand trembles slighly with the bottle.]

If only it could prevent idiocy, too.

[ It briefly occurs to Will that he should probably feel a twinge of conscience about what he's setting up here. He can always assuage his guilt by saying it was for a greater good, but then he is forced to remember Hannibal, shoving the dead body of an innocent police office out of a cruiser. The officer and his co-workers, sacrifices to the Red Dragon in their elaborate set up.

Yeah, going over that cliff really had been the best choice for everybody. Unfortunately he is here and now and letting House suck back all the wine. ]

Everything you need to know you learned in Kindergarten. [ He remarked wryly, before reaching to take the bottle, watching that hand. ]

Idiocy? Anything particular?

[ Another faux swig and the bottle was headed back House's way. ]

Screwing with data points. [He takes another swig of the wine, this one a bit more than the others as he sneers at the tablet and types another response.] There's no point in doing the goddamn experiment if he's just gonna lie to me about the results.

[The thought of the death being worthless, that he let a man commit suicide in front of him, with House's own drugs, makes the doctors skin crawl uncomfortably. Or it might just be the general malaise come over him since the bastard guzzled every pill in House's collection.

He thrusts the bottle back to Will as he flips between the private message and Sherlock's post.]

[ Reaching up, he took the bottle mostly to protect it from getting broken, but the majority of his focus is on House.

Will could always pick up his own tablet and go trolling the network for what the man is talking about, but it seems like it would be more informative to watch this unfold through House's lens. ]

Are you sure he's lying? [ Or in other words, tell me about these results. ]

[Will's lucky House is only shooting him cursory glances, or he might be more attuned to that intense gaze on him. The wine is loosening him up a bit, as well, after several large gulps and an alcohol tolerance tanked via life in Norfinbury. Apart from the absinthe and some of the amaretto, this is the only alcohol House has had in nine months.]

Yeeeeep. He's saying two different things in a private convo with me and on the network. Add to that Watson and Holmes the Elder are freaking the hell out at him and the biometrics... [House snorts.] Idiot.

We were hoping to revive one of the original Norfinbury residents. I had him OD and pumped all his blood into a corpse he dug up for it. [You wanted to know how desperate people get here, Will? House hadn't really meant to tell Will this, particularly, especially not Sherlock being involved in the decision. But here they are.] Eight pints, twenty milliliter draws at a time. You know how many needle sticks that is? Too. Freaking. Many. At least too many to be dealing with this crap now.

I need to examine him. Someone needs to get over and examine him. Watson'll probably go running after him like the good little puppy dog he is. And hopefully Holmes'll be back to himself soon. Who the hell's ever heard of a death price that turns you into someone else? Seriously?

Edited 2017-10-28 00:19 (UTC)

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[log] Don't Try to Save Me [closed]

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cw: drugs

cw: this entire conversation tbh

I'll take men who make bad life choices for 500

You misspelled best life choices.

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