The worst part of finding the solace of sleep from a bottle is that it demands some sort of payment at some point. The payment exacted from cheap booze is in the form of a short walk/hop to the men's room, at the time perscribed by the content and there are none that can resist its call.
'Looking like death warmed over'... it really was an improvement over what House had looked like for the last few days. The DTs were almost over, inexplicable as they were in his memory loss, though he had found the capsule bottles... which explained a great deal. Entering the men's room, the man moved slowly, having refamiliarized himself with cane and the best way to walk with it. Right hand, right leg.
Entering the bathroom, he nodded and grunted an early morning greeting to the other there. Not much for conversation, really. Not this early, not in the bathroom...
As if from an epiphany from above, the knowledge of his life came crashing back, filling his head, his ears, his eyes as a giant-flashback, or rather, flash-forward, ending up with that very moment that he hit the floor. Or... that other person who hit the floor. Strange, he'd felt himself falling, but after a split second, Dr. Gregory House, Head of Diagnostic Medicine for the Princeton/Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, discovered he was still on his feet.
But... he wasn't on his feet. Or... he was, but he wasn't...
[House] With the good comes the... good?
'Looking like death warmed over'... it really was an improvement over what House had looked like for the last few days. The DTs were almost over, inexplicable as they were in his memory loss, though he had found the capsule bottles... which explained a great deal. Entering the men's room, the man moved slowly, having refamiliarized himself with cane and the best way to walk with it. Right hand, right leg.
Entering the bathroom, he nodded and grunted an early morning greeting to the other there. Not much for conversation, really. Not this early, not in the bathroom...
As if from an epiphany from above, the knowledge of his life came crashing back, filling his head, his ears, his eyes as a giant-flashback, or rather, flash-forward, ending up with that very moment that he hit the floor. Or... that other person who hit the floor. Strange, he'd felt himself falling, but after a split second, Dr. Gregory House, Head of Diagnostic Medicine for the Princeton/Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, discovered he was still on his feet.
But... he wasn't on his feet. Or... he was, but he wasn't...
"What the hell---?"