House's timing was perfect. When he heard the swing of the locker room door followed by the purposeful click of heels, he jaunted around the the shower block and leaned against the row of lockers, casually twirling his cane. That black widow smile was still playing around the corners of her mouth, and she looked about as focused on her job as one of his doctors as a fairy princess daydreaming that some day her sucker would come.

About time she was disabused of that notion. House could be magnaminous; he'd save her from Foreman even after she'd disregarded his warnings about getting involved in the first place. "If I'd known Foreman was that good a kisser, I would've used him to tame Cameron instead of Chase," he said loudly, meanly hoping to startle the hell out of her. "A course of antibiotics might help with that jungle fever."