House was too observant of a man not to notice that Regina had been...preoccupied lately. However, he was not the type to ask about things unless he was practically cornered into the whole thing. Or if it could somehow benefit him in some way. He didn't see any way for this to benefit him, and otherwise he assumed Regina would simply bring it up if it was something she wanted to talk about. She did so often enough with other things, so her lack of mentioning it obviously meant she didn't want to go there. Justification of his own lack of action. It was just sort of the way his brain was wired.
Unfortunately for her, or maybe him, or possibly both of them, he was not as sound asleep that night as he normally was. As such, he noticed when s he got upa nd made her way to the window. He tried to ignore it. Tried to go back to sleep, but it was rather stupidly not happening. He held back a groan of annoyance or frustration or both before he sat up. He wasn't this guy. He didn't know how to be this guy. Wilson was this guy. Wilson built and broke marriages as this guy.
But a man of Wilson's character, House was not. And instead of trying to ease into the conversation, he would probably be far too blunt and she would probably roll her eyes at him for whatever smart-mouthed remark came out of his mouth. But it was something, which he heard rumors about being better than nothing. He wasn't about to come out of this completely sober, though, so he popped two of his pills and poured a glass of bourbon before he finally managed to think of something to say. "I am almost one hundred percent positive that window is not a therapist."