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  Interview 
 by Laura Smith  

 "This one?"

"Eric Foreman." House looked at the file. "Criminal history."

"Juvenile detention fifteen years ago."

"Right."

"So no?"

House gave Wilson a look, his eyebrow arched. "No. Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"Fine." Wilson grabbed antoher chart off his desk. "Robert Chase."

"No."

"Do you know who his father is?"

"Yes. No."

"Why not?"

"Look at his specialty. Look at his father's. When one is misdiagnosed,
what is the correct diagnosis?"

"The other specialty?"

"That's right. Unresolved father issues." House tapped his leg. "I have
enough issues of my own, thank you."

"You won't hire the son of Rowan Chase, one of the most prominent
specialists in the world, and yet you'll hire a criminal."

"Before my leg, I'd never had a vicodin in my life. People change." He
tapped Foreman's chart. "Or, better yet, they don't."

"I still think he'd be an asset." Wilson looked pointedly at House. "Maybe
his issues make him think he's got something to prove."

"Oh, touch." House smirked. "All right. Add him to the pile. The criminal
and the momma's boy. I'm just getting the cream of the crop. Next?"

"Cameron Allison."

House opened the file. "Reverse that. Allison Cameron."

Wilson glanced over the file. "Wow."

"What?"

Smiling, Wilson shrugged. "Pretty."

"If you like the type."

"The pretty type?"

"Low self esteem."

"And what, pray tell, makes you think that?"

"Cleavage."

"She's showing cleavage so she's got low self esteem?"

House closed the file. "She's showing cleavage because she doesn't think
she can make it on her brains, if she's got them."

"You don't get through med school without brains."

"Haven't you seen Legally Blonde?" House closed the file. "I don't need
some simpering, favor currying bimbo running around flirting with whatever
their names are."

"Chase and Foreman."

"Right."

"She's your type."

House drained his glass. "Shut up."

"I think you think she's pretty and therefore are opposed to hiring her on
the off chance she sees through this bitter, antagonistic faade..."

"It's a faade?"

"Sometimes," Wilson allowed. "You're afraid you're going to get a crush."

"And, apparently, that I will revert back to the age of 13."

"You've never progressed beyond that age. The only reason you became a
doctor was so that you could use bigger words for your scatological
humor."

"Why are we friends again?"

Wilson put Cameron's file on top of the Foreman and Chase's. "I'm saving
you from yourself."

"You're trying to get me killed, annoyed and laid."

"Not necessarily in that order."

House laughed. "I appreciate that."

Wilson leaned back against the couch and propped his feet on the coffee
table. "It's what friends are for."  
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the
ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of
Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House
(and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property
of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I
am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive
no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement
nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the
show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.