"House's line." He couldn't help himself now. She'd given him far too much to work with. "Everybody lies. House lies. We all lie to ourselves. But what would you do with somebody who did not? What would you find yourself faced with. Your little mantra would hold no more weight."
She was still standing. She realized his authority, even if she wasn't aware of it just yet. She would look back on this and remember herself standing, and not think of why. Why she'd not just come in and sit.
"Please, Doctor Cameron. Make yourself comfortable. Have a seat." He gestured lightly to one of the two chairs on the other side of his desk. The hand motion was as small as the movement of the chair had been, but there would be no mistaking it. "It seems our chat has the potential to turn into something deeper, I'm sure you'd rather sit for it."
He was quiet, thinking. His mind moving in several directions at once. Keeping track of everything while he did so. "You don't sound like you believe yourself. Likely you're aware of that. How long have you spent trying to convince yourself? Do you stare in the mirror every morning and say to yourself that you've gotten over Gregory House? That he's just too rough around the edges to really be anything to you? I'm sure it has nothing to do with his addiction to vicodin. From my observations, that had no hold on him other than taking the pain away. He is no better or worse as a person with it or without it."
Hannibal thought again. She had asked him a question, and he could always torment her further about this later. "I enjoy puzzles. But I like people more. The way that the mind works. How people react and interact. The secrets they harbor from even themselves. The way that a little tiny mention of something might insight a riot in the heart. Trigger a fistful of memories. I can see it in you. You think of House and you think of something in your past. I know it through the way your pupils dilate."