"My hallucination is speaking to me in riddles now. How quaint. If I didn't already know that I was an addict and that all of these experiences could be explained by my prescription drug abuse, I would say that I am in desperate need of a good neurologist."
House paused in his step for a moment to hold out his left leg and tap, somewhat harshly, just below the bend in the knee. His foot flicked a little.
"Well, I'm in no danger of imaginary paralysis any time too soon."
He continued to limp along beside her.
"Alright. Twenty questions. Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?"
Strange thing about this entire situation; if it were to be true, that he had magically taken an elevator in a hospital in New Jersey and ended up at a tourist attraction in Los Angeles, House would not freak out and frustrate himself. He wouldn't believe that it was the act of gods either. Actually, he wouldn't spend too much time thinking about it at all. He'd take a little vacation (he didn't have any important cases right now anyway,) shack up in a hotel for a few days, and then catch a flight back to work. That's all he really lived for anyway. Work, that is. Work and monster truck shows.
"Starbucks really should go wireless. That would save a whole lot of trouble. So would me admitting that my phone gets that ... what do you call it? The invisible computer thing with unlimited knowledge? Interweb or something? You know. All the kids are into it these days."