[It's pretty damn unbelievable, in general. And House isn't really the type to hope. Hoping leads to pain, the kind that Vicodin can't fix except in excess quantities. Still, he'll just keep some of his thoughts to himself for once.]

You won't be complaining if it doesn't. Death's a great way to shut people up.

[He stubs out the smoldering remains of his cigarette and flicks the butt over into the corner.]

Anyway, I'm gonna go sleep. [Or at least lie down and attempt it.] Nighty-night.