House M.D. Episode 8.04 Risky Business

Thad Barton steps happily out of his opulent white Colonial, down porch stairs dotted with fall leaves, then toward a front yard full of toilet-papered trees and yard signs featuring such messages as "Protect U.S. Jobs!" and "Benedict Barton." There's even an effigy of Barton hanging by a noose from a branch, which he's attempting to free as his daughter, Ainsley, drives up and surveys the damage.

"Are you at least going to call the cops this time?" she asks, sighing. "No, then they might stop," Thad says, amused, as he pulls down the crude, scarecrow-like figure, which has hand-drawn dollar signs for eyes. "Just when they're beginning to capture my eyes," he jokes. "Come on, Dad. Let Rodrigo do this. Your arthritis . . ." "I can pick up my own lawn," he tells her.

Ainsley reminds him that he can end the harassment. "Oh, of course, there are other ways to save the company," he says. "I'm only moving it to China because I'm craving egg foo yung."

"I just got off the phone with some investors," Ainsley tells him. But Thad knows they'd want a controlling interest in the company. "We get to stay here,"Ainsley pleads. "With the people who've been so loyal to this company. Everyone keeps their jobs." "It's been a family business for 120 years," Thad argues. "There's no way that I'm letting . . ."

But suddenly he stops, squinting and looking disoriented. "Dad, what's wrong?" Ainsley asks. He stares at his hand right in front of his face, but his depth perception is so distorted his hand looks tiny and yards away, while Ainsley appears even further back. "I need you to drive me to a doctor," Thad says, calmly.

"Patient's visited China a lot lately. What about the JBE Virus?" Park is going over Thad's case with House as he reads his emails: "OMFG! 50 percent off cupcakes. How sick is the patient? Because this expires today."

Park says that Thad has central serous retinopathy, which is linked to Type A personalities, as she shuts House's laptop screen to try to get his attention. "Fundoscopic exam was normal. If you don't let me read my emails, then I won't be able to read the email to the entire staff from your ex-boss," House tells her.

She opens his laptop back up. In the email, Park's former boss apologizes for any stress caused by his recent "incident" involving a hospital employee, and says that he's completed voluntary sexual harassment training. "You are so fired," House says. Park can't believe it - he apologized for grabbing her behind! So how could she be fired?

"He's saying he's sorry that someone - namely, you, overreacted, namely by punching him." House is convinced the doctor will spin it in his favor, and that this email was just an attempt to make himself appear sympathetic.

"$100 bucks says I won't get fired," Park bets him. House looks her over. "Oh, you don't want to bet me," he says. She sticks out her hand to seal the bet. He takes it and says, "You're fired." Park tries to talk her way out of her loss. "The bet's that I'll get fired AFTER my hearing!" "I could take that action, too," he tells her. "But you're already a C note in the hole."

"You're late," House tells Adams, as she walks in his office in a formal black business suit. "Considering I don't work here, arguably I'm early," she says, letting him know she was on a job interview. "I hope it went terribly," he says. Adams reviews Thad's case file: "We only help rich white guys?"

"I am an equal opportunity exploiter. I only help those who can help myself," House says. He explains that he's trying to re-fund his department, over the sound of a cast being sawed off in what used to be his outer office, but is now occupied by Orthopedics.

Adams suggests atropine poisoning as the cause of Thad's symptoms. "He's moving his company to China, and his employees are hanging him in effigy. They could've moved on to the real thing." But his pupils were normal. "Thyrotoxicosis," Park says. House declares that's "not a terrible idea" and sets off to administer the PTU as well as some TLC.

"Things don't seem small anymore. I woke up from a nap and everything went really small to really huge," Thad explains to House, who's brought in the PTU pills. "Well, then these giant balls of medicine are not going to work anymore."

He says Thad actually has a simpler problem. "Your occipital lobe is acting up, giving you a migraine." Even though he doesn't have a headache? "Not all migraines present that way," House tells him. "It's called Alice in Wonderland Syndrome. The good news is it's treatable with medication. The bad news is it can make you very, very late for very important dates."

Thad thanks House, which presents him with the perfect opportunity to beg for money. "If you really want to thank me, my department's not really a department, because my boss says he doesn't have the money, which provides a nice contrast with you." Ainsley pointedly tells him that they're trying to use any money they can get their hands on just so they don't have to move the company overseas.

"I get it," House says. "Answer's no. Shouldn't have said anything. I'm just glad that the symptoms showed up before you left for China, because I'm not sure the doctors over there would be so optimistic, considering how they look down on mental illness." Except he says the last bit in Mandarin to Thad, who understands him perfectly.

Ainsley has no idea what they're saying, as House continues to tell Thad that mental illness is such a taboo in China that it could potentially "destroy a high-profile business deal. I'd never breach confidentiality, but I could have you checked into a facility that exclusively treats mental disorder." Ainsley just wants whatever can help her dad, but Thad knows House is blackmailing him. "How much do you want?" he asks House in Mandarin.

"You're hired!" House tells Park and Adams in the cafeteria. "You guys are going to love doctors Chase and Taub. Keep your Nazi sentiments quiet around the little one." Park asks how he got the money. "Patient's a smart businessman," House tells her. Adams says he's destroying thousands of jobs. "Jobs are not being destroyed. They're being relocated. The fact that you see that as inherently bad means you're an irrational patriot. To put it another way: a patriot."

Even Park sees patriotism as natural. "It's helpful for society if its members have positive feelings about that society." "Patriotism is nothing but loyalty to real estate," House says. "Real estate that's been conquered 800 times by 800 different regimes with 800 different cultures. But each time, it's just the best!"

"Hey, how's my dad doing?" Ainsley asks Adams, outside Thad's room. Adams says his vision's improved and he could be released by morning. Ainsley's checking her smart phone as she listens. "Any chance I could have him before 9? Our stock dropped a couple of points today with the news that he's sick. I would love for him to get out of here before the market opens."

Adams stiffens. "No offense, but I think it's terrible your dad is closing down all your American operations." Ainsley explains that it's not greed that's motivating Thad, but grief. "My mom, she died four months ago. Non-Hodgkins lymphoma. It's been hard for him. Living in the same house, driving on the same streets. He's constantly reminded of her." Suddenly alarms are sounding in Thad's room. He's sitting up in his bed, coughing up blood.

"Angiography showed a hemorrhagic site in the left lower lobe." Adams, Park, and House are reviewing the case in Dr. Foreman's office, specifically in the spot that used to house Cuddy's desk, but is now a small sitting area. Park thinks maybe it's hyperviscosity syndrome. "Are you sure Foreman's OK with us being in his office?" she asks. House says he'll never know, and chides Park for sending out a hospital-wide "non-apology apology" email that was basically a copy of what her former boss sent out. "If it made Andrews look sympathetic . . ." Park starts. "Copying him makes you look pathetic. And I will pay you not to go to anger management classes."

She tries to steer them back to the case, suggesting a clotting problem: factor V Leiden deficiency. House thinks that it's a possibility, and tells Park her inner rage is "a gift from not-God." Whereas, Adams is the one who needs to deal with her anger, after her encounter with Ainsley. "Their company is making a decision I strongly disagree with," Adams says. "Yet you were never anything but courteous to the racists and rapists in prison. Those guys made decisions you supported?" House challenges her. "Myelodysplastic syndrome," Adams says, ignoring House's question. "So your theory is that the guy's blood is not clotting fast enough, which is the complete opposite of your colleague's theory. Even your ideas are hostile. I'm guessing it has something to do with the funeral you attended yesterday morning."

She repeats that she was at a job interview. But House has done the math: "You got to work at 9:15. The closest hospital with an opening in your specialty is 45 minutes away. It's not possible. My condolences." But she refuses to admit she was at a funeral. "That just leaves . . . everywhere but a job interview," House says.

He won't be able to further interrogate her because Foreman arrives and orders them all to leave. "Well, we would," House says. "But Orthopedics is still squatting in two-thirds of my office, which is weird, because you got a large check last night." House points to the check on Foreman's desk. "From a corporation that's going through a very public belt-tightening," Foreman says. "Which means this donation was given under duress. Patient didn't tell me the whole story, but he did say he'd be thrilled if we didn't cash this." And he rips up the check.

As they leave Foreman's office, House grabs his rear end. "What are you doing?" Foreman asks. "Holding your ass. You really didn't know?" House answers. "House!" Park yells. "Just trying to help you out here," he says. "Figured for sure he'd punch me in the face, thus proving that it's a natural response. My God you have superhuman discipline," he says to Foreman. "And glutes."

After they leave, he tells Park and Adams that he has a way to determine which of them is right about the diagnosis: treat Thad with activated protein C. They're both confused. "If he has myelodysplastic syndrome, he'll bleed out," Adams says. "And if he has factor V Leiden deficiency, he'll throw another clot," adds Park. "Exactly, it's a conclusive test," House says. "And there's no actual risk. As long as you're both paying attention, and you're both good enough to work here."

"I hear one of you thinks I'm a real bastard," Thad says to Park and Adams, as they prep the treatment. Adams owns up to it. "Your boss uses blackmail and you question my professional ethics?" Thad asks. She asks if he'll be instituting worker safety regulations in the new factories. He assures her he will. "What about juice boxes in the break room for the children you'll be hiring?" Thad says charges of child exploitation by American companies overseas are overblown. Park says she has a 10-year-old cousin in the Philippines who works in an American factory, and it's the best thing for him. "It's sucks, but the Filipino factories suck worse. And the schools would suck if they existed. So, this is the family's best hope." Meanwhile, Thad seems to be scratching a lot.

"Itching. Interesting." House says when Adams and Park return to his office, as he blasts a mini-strobe light at one of the orthopedic doctors next door until the doctor becomes nauseated. But Thad's itching has already gone away. "Doubly interesting," House says. "Means we have to explain the arrival and the departure." Adams remembers that Thad's wife died from non-Hodgkins lymphoma, but wonders if she could have been misdiagnosed. "Her lymphoma could have been a virus, HTLV-I, which our patient contracted through having sex with his wife." "In other words, loyalty gave him cancer. I like it. Start him on radiation," House says.

"Chang and Eng Bunker." A young Asian man with a black eye is explaining that the mannequin attached to him is part of his Halloween costume, while House is stitching up his lacerations in the clinic. "The most famous conjoined twins in history; 2011 is the bicentennial of their birth."

House has called Park in. "I think I've got palliative. Why don't you take preventative?" he asks. "Prevent what? He got in a fight," she says. A fight that he started, House points out. "Which means he's both irascible and stupid." "I told the drunk, racist frat guy the proper term is conjoined twin, not Siamese," the man says. But Chang and Eng actually were Siamese, and they were twins. "I thought maybe some of the tripe you learned in anger management class may keep this guy out of here next time," House tells Park. She gives it a shot: "Sometimes, it's incredibly satisfying to wind up and punch somebody who really deserves it, but when you think of all the consequences . . ."

House doesn't need to hear anymore. He's got what he needed, on a little recorder. "'Sometimes, it's incredibly satisfying to wind up and punch someone who deserves it.' I wonder what the committee's going to make of that?"

"This is a waste of time. There's no way that Robin gave me an STD," Thad says, from within the radiation room. From the control booth, Adams says that she knows this is hard for him. "You sound like my daughter," he says. "I miss my wife, but it's not driving my decision-making." But Adams thinks it's too coincidental that he decided to move the company right after she died. "My wife is the only thing that keeps me here. I visit her grave once a week," he says. "So your daughter was wrong. You just really need a lot of money," Adams says. "You ever hear of Kongō Gumi?" Thad asks. "Construction company in Japan founded in the year 578, family-owned and operated. Building Buddhist temples for 50 generations. Went bankrupt 5 years ago. You have any idea how that last CEO must have felt?" Suddenly his heart starts racing and his chest tightens. Adams runs in. "I figured it was from the radiation," he says. "I think you're having a heart attack," Adams tells him.

"Dr. Wilson? I need your advice." Park wants an expert's opinion on House. "I bet House $100 dollars that I wouldn't get fired after my disciplinary hearing. Ever since then, he's been acting like he's actually trying to get me fired." "That's because he is actually trying to get you fired," Wilson tells her. "Does he hate me?" she asks. "Not sure that's relevant to the equation," he says. Nor is the amount of the bet. "He's fighting for his honor." She wonders if she could call him off by betting $200 dollars that she will get fired. "He sees competing bets with the same person as a disgrace to the game," Wilson says. "He'll be even more motivated to beat you." So what can she do? "You have to give him something he values more than honor. And you should update your resume."

"EKG and troponins were equivocal. It's not even clear if our patient just had a heart attack or what it was," Adams tells House. "Let's look at segmental wall motion abnormalities. Get him an echo to confirm," House says. "And I need $200,000 dollars. His company's lost one-third of its value since he was admitted." "And you want to do some insider trading?" Adams asks. "I take it felonies aren't a violation of your parole." House doesn't think that it's insider trading at all. "I'm just betting on myself to solve the case. Once we cure him, share price goes up, I pay you back."

She won't give him $200,000, but she will give him $5,000 - if he doubles his clinic hours. She's seen how he treats the patients there, and she thinks if he spends more time with them, he'll treat them more humanely. "Here's what I'm thinking: you went to a parole hearing where one of your old patients was denied. Hence the attire, hence the tardiness, and most important, hence the anger. You think you can restore the cosmic balance by doing extra good here. More annoyingly, by having me do it. Deal."

House walks into his office, only to see literally everything on and near his desk wrapped in plaster cast. He strolls over to the orthopedic doctor. "Of course you know, this means war," House says. "Oh, I know," the doctor tells him. "You'll escalate, and I'll retaliate, and the cycle will continue until we've both gone too far, at which point I'll maybe get suspended. You'll go back to prison. Happy pranking," he says, smiling.

"Patient had V-tach in echo lab, so we cathed him, but coronary arteries were clean." It's late in the evening, and Adams and Park are in House's office. "If the plumbing's fine, check the electrical. EP study," Park suggests. "Nice idea," House says. "Even has a metaphor in it. Not worth more than my honor, but delightful all the same."

Park declares she is not going to lose: "My college roommate is the editor of the Yale Law Review. She's writing my opening statement." "Well, then you will be eloquent in your loss," he says. "This case boils down to he said/she said. He said, 'I've been working at this hospital for 15 years, and I'm taking self-improvement classes.' She said, 'I've been a fellow for 2 months, and I'm kind of weird.'" "No, he said, 'I'm a drunk idiot who thinks I can grab girls' behinds without ramifications,'" Park says.

He was drunk? In the hospital? "I already told Foreman he'd been drinking that night," she says. "Andrews was taking sexual harassment classes, not AA," House says. "That means he didn't get in trouble for drinking. Which means that Foreman signed off on it. Which means that he set all the wheels in motion." He looks at Park. "Forget that. Wild speculation."

"You already knew Andrews was drinking that night, didn't you?" Park confronts Foreman. He admits that he did. She wants him to cancel the hearing. "I hope this isn't going where I assume it's going," he says. "You're the one who brought Andrews in. You set the wheels in motion," Park says. "We had a patient who was going to die without an AVM embolization. Andrews was the only neurologist I could reach. He told me he had a few glasses of wine, and that he shouldn't do it, but he also said you were good. You were ready to do one as long as you were supervised. So we agreed that he would come in, but wouldn't touch the patient."

"I can understand the rationalization," Park says. "We'll see if the board agrees when I tell them the whole story at my hearing." Foreman sighs. "I already did. I had a closed-session hearing last week. Board decided to dock me two-weeks' pay. You've been working for House for two weeks, and it's already too long."

"No sign of any electrical abnormalities in the right atrium." Adams is performing the EP study on Thad when Park returns from Foreman's office. "I'm so dead," Park says. "I think House set me up. Have you sent the committee a character reference for me?" Wait, isn't this the same person who doesn't like favors? "I don't like gifts. It wouldn't be a gift. It would just be telling the truth," Park says. Suddenly, Thad's O2 sat drops to 89. "Did we perforate? Is he tamponading?" Adams asks. "Heart rate's only 90. Neck veins are flat," Park says. "Why isn't he saturating?" Adams wonders, as Park slips an oxygen mask on Thad.

"Let's release him. My option to sell Barton Foods at $34 dollars is about to expire," House tells Adams and Park. "Because I thought the patient would be better by now. Instead, I am going to lose $20,000 dollars." $20,000? "Your 5," he says to Adams, as the three of them walk down the hall. "Plus the 5 I stole from Wilson. Plus the 10 I got on margin. You're going to have to talk to my bankruptcy attorney. Unless . . . there is a way that you can get your money back. Give me the full $200,000 dollars." "And, extrapolating," Adams figures, "tomorrow you'll owe just shy of a $1,000,000 dollars." House tells her it's her fault. "You forced me to go with the options. Your damn anger issues are screwing with my finances."

She insists that she's not angry. "You refuse to bet on yourself," House says. "That means low self-esteem. Low self-esteem can be brought on by exposure to one's relatives. Nice clothes and anger - classic symptoms of a family gathering. You were late the other day because you were having breakfast with Granny Adams or Cousin It, and she was nagging you about finding a husband." Now Adams is starting to get annoyed. "I'll just tell you what I was -," but House cuts her off. "No spoilers. They ruin everything." And why did they just pass pulmonology? "Our patient's lung problem is not a lung problem. It's a brain problem. We're consulting with neurology."

House stops in front of the office door of Dr. Andrews, the doctor who groped Park. She doesn't believe House really thinks the problem is neurological. "I don't know what it is. Maybe I should just accept the patient's death if getting help can lead to awkwardness," he says.

"Dr. Andrews," House announces himself. "My associates: Drs. Adams and Park." Andrews is startled but regains his composure. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Adams. Hello, Dr. Park." "You two know each other? It's a small world," House says. "Dr. Park, maybe you'd like to update our esteemed colleague on the condition of our patient." Park awkwardly relates the symptoms: micropsia, bleeding, tachycardia, and difficulty breathing. House leans over to Andrews: "Cute butt, huh?" Andrews says it sounds like there could be spinal cord involvement. "Have you considered normal pressure hydrocephalus?" House seems like he might go for it unless there's any disagreement.

"It's not his spinal cord," Park says. "It's the wire between his heart and his brain. Autonomic dysregulation syndrome. We do a tilt table test, see how his heart rate responds. That'll confirm." "Well, if he has normal pressure hydrocephalus, a tilt table test could put him in a coma," Andrews says. "Then it's a good thing he has ADS," she replies. She's convinced, but House isn't. He agrees with Andrews, and orders a spinal fluid test to confirm.

"We're doing the tilt table," Park tells Adams after they leave Andrews' office. She thinks the bet must be a test to see if she can handle working with House. "I need to prove I have the confidence to disobey him." Adams agrees to perform the test, while Park prepares for her hearing.

"A skin resurfacing laser is missing." Foreman finds Adams in the control booth, administering the tilt table test. But why is he asking her about a missing laser? "Because you work for House," he says. Why would House want that? "I have no idea. Have you seen it?" he asks. Through the intercom, Thad says his feet feel hot. "That's completely normal," Adams assures him. "It's a very expensive machine," Foreman continues. "And I'd like it back. Please tell me if you hear anything." "How expensive?" Adams asks. "$200,000 dollars," he says.

Foreman knows that House took it, but he's got to get to Park's hearing. "You're covering for him," he says. "I did the same thing many times. My advice to you: figure out what line you aren't willing to cross for him. Because eventually, he'll ask you to cross it." Foreman leaves, and Adams returns to her patient. "How are your feet?" she asks. But he's not responsive. She races in to check his pulse. "Oh, no."

"We have convened the disciplinary committee to decide the appropriate action that should be taken against Dr. Chi Park as a result of her actions on October 7th of this year." Foreman is presiding over the panel who will determine Park's fate. He asks if Park has an opening statement. "Dr. Foreman, members of the committee, thank you for giving me this opportunity to speak to you today . . ." Suddenly, House bursts in the room, with Adams right behind. "Good news, you can cancel the hearing, because I'm firing her myself," he says, angrily. Thad is in a coma.

Adams protests that she's the one who actually did the test. But Park says it was her idea. "Seriously, House?" Foreman says, as guards are taking House away. "At least I'm smart enough to know what I don't know. She went out of her way to defy me," House continues as he's being dragged away. "My apologies," Foreman says. "Please continue."

"I can't believe you did that!" Adams tells House. "Right back at you," he says. "My patient's dying. We need theories." She thinks Andrews must have been right about normal pressure hydrocephalus, since he predicted the coma, but House thinks it was just a lucky guess. "If you didn't think he was right, then why did you want us to collect his spinal fluid?" Adams asks. "I didn't. I wanted you to do a tilt table test," House says. "You have a wonderful way of communicating," she tells him. "I knew Park wanted to do a tilt table. If she listens to me, I waste an hour. If she defies me, then I get the test I want, and my $100 bucks." Now, Adams is angry. "You're an ass!"

She wants to run the test for normal pressure hydrocephalus. "No. What else would explain our symptoms and make our patient go into a coma during that test? What about hepatic encephalopathy?" Adams says that they already tested his liver enzymes and they were normal. "Or his liver is so far gone it can't even produce enzymes," House says. He wants a biopsy to confirm.

"So, you do realize that it is unacceptable to hit someone in the workplace?" Foreman is grilling Park. "Yes, completely unacceptable," she says. "I wasn't thinking. I guess, I mean, technically I was thinking. I just . . . it happened to fast, I, I, it's like it wasn't even me. I would never do something like that. Even though I did. I'm sorry I'm not making any sense right now, I, um, I don't know. I just really love being a doctor so much and I barely even have $100 dollars, and . . . please don't fire me?"

"Is this theory more promising than the others?" Ainsley watches as Adams performs the biopsy on her dad. They'll know in a few hours. "Tomorrow morning I'm supposed to sign a piece of paper that will move the company and cost thousands of employees their jobs," Ainsley says. "I thought you said you'd rather see the company go under in Jersey than thrive in China," Adams says. But this is what her dad wants, and it's still his company. "I'm really just keeping the seat warm. But unless he wakes up before tomorrow, it's going to be my signature on that piece of paper."

"Biopsy was clean. It's not his liver." Adams brings the results to House's office. She also ran the spinal fluid test. "You were right that Andrews was wrong." Park runs in happily, making crowd-cheering noises and raising her arms in victory. "You owe me 106,804 Yuan. Or $100 US," she proudly says to House. "God, but you're petty," House says. "So, two options: either we figure out what's wrong with this guy, or we figure out how to make this company profitable in New Jersey."

But House can hardly hear himself think over the sound of the sawing in the other room. He angrily runs in, and just as he's about to punch the doctor, he notices a bone x-ray on the screen and has an idea. "Start the patient on plasmapheresis," he tells Park and Adams. "He'll wake up in an hour."

"This diagnosis was brought to you by the letter Y," House says to Thad as he wakes. "Turns out your blood was getting thick and syrupy, with complexes of large Y-shaped antibodies. They were clogging up your blood vessels, causing your organs to shut down one by one. Now, usually with hyperviscosity syndrome, it's caused by elevated blood count or protein count, but yours eluded us, because it was caused by antibodies from your rheumatoid arthritis. Now that they're being filtered out, your blood will be a little less duck sauce, a little more soy sauce."

And his stock price will be cured, too. House hands him a press release to sign, announcing that he's healthy and going back to work, and the company is officially moving to China. "He just woke up. Dad, you don't have to do this right now," Ainsley says. "Actually, he does. Because the market opens at 9 a.m.," House tells Thad. "And this means a lot to me. You may remember me from the time I saved your life." "If you move it, it'll be without me," Ainsley tells her father. "If this is really about family, you will not do this." House hands him the pen. He hesitates, but he signs. Ainsley walks out.

The next morning, House wheels in the skin resurfacing laser. Wilson sees him and hands him a wad of cash. "I got lucky this time," House says. "No, you didn't," Wilson says. "I made this bet so you'd stop actively trying to fire Park, so you'd be neutral. You went out of your way to help her. She obviously earned your respect, passed whatever test you . . ."

"I sabotaged her hearing," House protests. "If you had sabotaged her hearing, she would have gotten more than a slap on the wrist. What you actually did was make her emotional and make the board members see her as a victim." "Because the panel feels badly for incompetent doctors who nearly kill people," House says.

"You know that everyone on that panel hates you," Wilson argues. "You know the minute you recommend firing anyone, they start discussing how big a bonus to give them." "That's just hurtful," House says. "Fact is, winning $100 dollars from you brings me more pleasure than winning $100 from her." And he hands Wilson back the $5,000 he never knew House took.

House delivers the laser to Foreman, who's less than grateful. "Congratulations. You're not going to jail. Today. But you do know I can't just let this slide." "Fine. Clinic hours, I'll double them," House volunteers, knowing he'd already agreed to do that. "OK, 12 hours a week," Foreman says. He knows about the deal with Adams.

"Call Chase and Taub. Get them in here," House says, reaching for a check to hand to Foreman. "The boys are back." Foreman looks at the check, which is for significantly more than what he'd told House it would take to fund the department.

"You paged me?" Adams finds House in the outer office, now officially his again. He hands her a white lab coat.

"Congratulations." She smiles and lets him put it on her. "You caught your boyfriend cheating that morning," he figures. "You had a big fight. That's why you were late. You re-pitched an STD. You haven't gone two consecutive minutes without using the word 'loyalty,' which explains the anger, the low self-esteem. And the desire to feel pretty, after having been rejected, explains the clothes."

But it wasn't her boyfriend; it was her husband. "I was at my lawyer's office signing the divorce papers." They've been separated for over a year. "So, old news? No anger left?" House asks. It looks like there just might be some residual anger. He hands her a baseball bat. "It's all bought and paid for," he says, looking around at all the equipment left by orthopedics. He dons a pair of safety glasses as she destroys the room, piece by piece.