[ 98th consult | action ]

[dr_conscience]

[ Wilson hasn't been at the apartment much since the curse on the Ides of March, generally trying to avoid House (inasmuch as he can, since they do still work together). Most of his anger, though, is aimed at the City - the curse, for compelling him to keep fueling the argument. It's more difficult than usual to dismiss it, though, since everything they argued about was real. Points were made that were more uncomfortably true than he could shrug off. While the anger is primarily for the City, the guilt is all his own.

So tonight he's taking some time to think, to reflect quietly and alone as he walks through the streets. He stays in the central areas near the square, a years-old discomfort with being out alone in the City - a discomfort which is worse at night, when the streets are less populous and he can't identify threats as quickly - never entirely leaving him.

As a gust of wind grants him a nice, leftover chill from winter that lingered behind, and he finds himself ducking into a building - The Hall of the Missing.

He used to come here, sometimes, to reflect, to think back on those who have left and consider just how many he's seen come and go. It's been a long time since he had last done so, but it's warm and quiet. Idly, he wonders about his own portrait, one that he intellectually knows has appeared on these walls but which of course he's never seen himself.

He will remain for a while, before again venturing out into the night, for anyone who might happen to see him in passing. ]

Comments

[water_wine_wizard]

[Laruna has been exploring the City and has come to the Hall of the Missing, looking at all the people, wondering who they were. When she spots Wilson, she wanders over to him.]

Hello.

[She gives him a soft smile as she speaks quietly.]

[dr_conscience]

[He does manage a tight smile of his own, a glance in her direction. His own problems are rarely enough to keep him from managing pleasant enough interaction.]

Hi.

[And a look toward the nearby portraits.]

Looking for someone?

[water_wine_wizard]

[She shakes her head.]

I don't know anyone here. I've just been exploring the City and saw this place.

Do you know people here?

[dr_conscience]

[He gives a small nod.]

Quite a few of them, actually. They can sort of... build up, gradually, when you've been here a while.

[water_wine_wizard]

It must be nice to know they've gone home.

[dr_conscience]

For a number of them, at least.

[Less so for the ones who are dead or the ones who simply wanted to stay... but he just can't reject an optimistic view.]

That's a nice way of looking at it. Most people will recognize that intellectually, but have trouble getting past missing their friends.

[water_wine_wizard]

What do you mean? About "for a number of them"?

RING. RING.

[vicodincrutch]

[Your phone is blowing up, Wilson. Hopefully it's on vibrate or something because the noise could disrupt all of that broody reflecting.

House doesn't exactly know what he's going to say when...if Wilson picks up. The avoidance is troubling. Almost as troubling as his own comfort with the solitude and silence. All that means ticking.]

[dr_conscience]

[Usually, the phone doesn't get to ring for very long before he picks it up. This time, though, he spends a moment looking at the screen.

But then, glancing around and finding somewhere to duck where one side of a conversation won't disturb anyone, he does answer. He can only avoid House for so long, after all. He's not really inclined to go looking for a new best friend.

Of course, he's not exactly sure of what to say, either. Usually, he'd go straight into whatever comment he'd been holding onto, foregoing any real greeting. They have the kind of friendship that doesn't require - or ever really include - pleasantries. But here, he has nothing to immediately jump into, so... neutral it is. It's the least casual attempt at casual ever, a tone which somehow carries the pursing of his lips after the single, tentative syllable.]

Hey.

[vicodincrutch]

[Voicemail on average picks up at six to eight rings. Wilson usually gets his before that. Usually. The bar is set low. Then again, if he doesn't pick up House will only call him again. After a few moments, when he feels like he's been left alone.

Which is funny because what other message can another person send if they don't return to their own home for days?]

I am burdened with the task of throwing out things in the refrigerator that have expired.

[That is "hey" okay. Not accusatory for the moment, not biting. Just a by the way. At least it is something to start. Pleasantries would mean something is very wrong. Wilson says hey.]

[dr_conscience]

[That would almost be funny, save for the circumstances - with them being what they are though, he just expels a breath. Even if it's not accusatory, he doesn't exactly feel great. And this is entirely on him, which... he won't refuse to accept.]

There can't be that much that's expired.

[vicodincrutch]

It is going to rot more with only one body consuming the contents.

[Rather than two in the pad of doctor bachelors.]

Are you coming back or not?

[The edge is in the question because he can't play passive entirely. The only problem is that if he blows his hand, what then? Wilson could cut out. Chase has his distance. Cameron? She is the sneaky one.]

[dr_conscience]

[He hesitates, just for a moment but enough that it's noticeable. Of course he's coming back. He always comes back. The edge isn't surprising - it's more surprising that there hasn't been more of it. But, of course, he's more used to arguments they have on their own terms, not the City's. For his part, he suppresses the impulse to go passive-aggressive in his response. What is this madness.]

Yeah. I'm coming back.

[He just needed to spend some time figuring out his own guilt and trying to not make it worse.]

It's not you I'm mad at.

Action

[trenchknives]

[Jimmy has taken to wandering around at night. It's probably not the best idea, but it lets him think about things, and a little bit of aimless wandering never hurt anyone, right? As he turns a corner, he sees Wilson walking towards him. At first, he's not going to say anything -- the guy looks wrapped up in his own thoughts, too -- but as he gets a little closer, he decides to at least greet him.]

Hey.

Action

[dr_conscience]

[Wilson does make a valiant and largely successful effort to appear somewhat less mopey, managing a small smile in response to Jimmy's greeting.]

Jimmy - hi. How are you?

Re: Action

[trenchknives]

Oh, y'know, I'm doin' okay.

[He looks at Wilson, frowning slightly.]

You doin' okay? You look kinda rough, doc.

Re: Action

[dr_conscience]

[Him? Oh. He hesitates a little, then nods.]

Yeah, I'm all right.

[And wit a small shrug,]

Curses.

Re: Action

[trenchknives]

[He nods.]

Yeah, curses. Been a particularly bad set of 'em lately -- first the stabbin', then the hangovers...

Re: Action

[dr_conscience]

[There's a reminder of something he can be thankful for. They didn't actually stab each other, and he didn't wind up with a hangover either. Really, that would have been exactly what he needed at that point.]

The City's idea of being seasonally festive usually does leave something to be desired.

action;

[othersdie]

[Not wandering alone at night is a wise idea. The Hall of the Missing has always been safe enough, though; not too many stop in unless someone particularly well-liked has gone missing, and even then very rarely at night. Justin likes the solitude, especially on nights when it's still too chilly to walk in the garden (one downside of being dead--having to worry about chills). Not that Neil and Todd are loud at night, but there's a difference between being in a quiet apartment and being alone.

And, as pathetic as it is, Justin has been using insomnia as an excuse to visit Euphie's portrait. There are others to visit, too--Abby, Shilo, Beckett, Angela, and a dozen more besides--but he spends the most time with Euphie. He likes to lie to himself and say that it's just because she's the most recent in a long line of losses.

But the Hall of the Missing isn't as empty as usual. Justin stops staring at the portrait of his sometimes-girlfriend to glance at Wilson as he enters, bringing a reminder of winter in with him. They know each other, vaguely, just by virtue of being trapped in the City for years. He's not sure if that makes him socially obligated to say hello or not, so he'll wait for Wilson to make a move.]

Re: action;

[dr_conscience]

[Well, Wilson is Wilson, so by virtue of him being Wilson, he will at least acknowledge Justin. There isn't anyone else in this immediate area when he enters, so it would be downright rude not to greet him. At least, by Wilson's standards. So, maintaining a respectful distance while doing so, he nods with a polite, tight little smile.]

Evening.

action;

[othersdie]

Hello.

[No polite smile here. Will polite acknowledgement do? It's a step above the usual polite indifference.

Justin shoves his hands into his coat pockets and fishes for a topic of conversation. Small talk. Nothing involved, but people typically expect more than a 'hello.']

Are you looking for someone?

Re: action;

[dr_conscience]

[Polite acknowledgement is fine by him - it's certainly better than some responses he could get. To the question, he just shakes his head slightly.]

I was passing by, thought I'd stop in to... visit, I suppose.

[And an inquisitive angling of his head.]

You?

action;

[othersdie]

Mm.

[Polite disinterest? Sorry, Wilson. Justin glances at Euphie's portrait and shrugs.]

I'm visiting.

action;

[dr_conscience]

[He follows Justin's glance, recognizing the portrait on the wall.]

Euphie.

[Yep, they were acquainted - his gaze goes back to Justin.]

You two were close?