James E. Wilson, MD (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dr_conscience) wrote2011-09-05 02:28 pm
dr_conscience) wrote2011-09-05 02:28 pm
Entry tags:
[ 66th consult | video / action at hall of the missing ]
[For those watching via the Network, you've currently got a view of the Hall of the Missing provided by a device left sitting, unattended, on a shed suit jacket that's placed on one of the benches. The owner of these items is visible, off by the wall.
Of course, it's not unusual to stop by the Hall of the Missing - assuming you have reason to suspect someone you know has just left. Wilson doesn't have any such excuse; he's on his lunch break and, not particularly hungry, he's popped across the street to spend some quiet time among the portraits. He stops in here now and again, with increasing frequency since he passed the two year mark of his return to the City in July.
He strolls slowly and silently along the wall, inevitably pausing for a few moments when he happens across a familiar face. It's been a long time. Not as long as some, of course; he knows that perfectly well. Still, a long time, and he's reached a point of resignation as he reflects back on it.
He stops his path by Cuddy's portrait, then turns away and finds is way back to the bench where the device rests, sitting next to it. He takes a slow and quiet intake of breath and looks around him once more. No words are spoken, for he doesn't know he has anyone to say them to.]
Of course, it's not unusual to stop by the Hall of the Missing - assuming you have reason to suspect someone you know has just left. Wilson doesn't have any such excuse; he's on his lunch break and, not particularly hungry, he's popped across the street to spend some quiet time among the portraits. He stops in here now and again, with increasing frequency since he passed the two year mark of his return to the City in July.
He strolls slowly and silently along the wall, inevitably pausing for a few moments when he happens across a familiar face. It's been a long time. Not as long as some, of course; he knows that perfectly well. Still, a long time, and he's reached a point of resignation as he reflects back on it.
He stops his path by Cuddy's portrait, then turns away and finds is way back to the bench where the device rests, sitting next to it. He takes a slow and quiet intake of breath and looks around him once more. No words are spoken, for he doesn't know he has anyone to say them to.]
audio;
[Well, it's certainly not a surprising prospect. He knows you're not here yet, and he's still staying put. Think of how far away he could be by the time you got there if he started running, but he's not. Because he's just a good friend like that.]
audio;
[Closer, closer now. Good thing Wilson isn't the running type or else this would end far uglier than he intended. Everything ends up to be more rough than it should with House. He ponders about the nature of this behavior. There must be symptoms, you see.]
audio;
[Lingering around, he's gotten up and is now walking in slow, aimless steps as he talks on the device. There really isn't any sense in running, anyway, if he intends on going home. No real way to avoid the roughness.]
audio;
[That one strikes a sour note to his own tongue but there it is. No, the people there aren't dead. Not all of them at least. That's the word around. Finally House is there.]
So this is your hang out.
action;
Yes, my graveyard. It's a compromise; I thought about going full goth, but I thought if I took it too far it might scare the patients.
action;
More so than usual.
[A shrug before he seeks out a place to take a seat.]
It's quiet. I guess that's one of the perks right?
action;
One of the primary ones, actually.
action;
[The assessment of the situation continues although House has had a few ideas jumbling around. Admitting that he has over looked something also agitates him.]
So it is something else. Am I getting warmer?
[Lack of communication on Wilson's part in a blatant way....is something different. He's sneaker than that.]
action;
Well... you're right, there isn't anyone or anything that's actively bothering me. It's just...
[There he pauses, pursing his lips and making a loose gesture with both arms that lands somewhere between shrugging and throwing his hands up.]
It's this place. Everything that's happened the past couple of years. How little it matters.