for McCoy

[misanthrope_md]

House didn't stay in the bathhouse much longer after Jack left. While he sat there in the water with nothing to keep him company but his own thoughts and the throbbing, insistent pain in his leg, it seemed like anything would be preferable. So finally he climbed out and dressed, his clothes now damp since he hadn't brought a towel to dry off with.

He walked outside then and woke Padfoot, who yawned and allowed House to take his leash again. He started to trot off back towards home, but House turned them both in the direction of the Hub. It didn't occur to him until they were nearly there that it was late, and the place was probably closed. He idly wondered if he could just go in and get some booze anyway, but just as he got there, he noticed a familiar face exiting.

"Hey, doc," he said to McCoy. "Want to get shitfaced?"

Comments

[leftwithmybones]

Well, it's not like he hasn't already got a head start. And it's not like he has a problem. He isn't drinking every damn night, but sometimes it just creeps up on him and he remembers everything and he can't deal with it without a drink in his gut. "Thought that's what I just did," he replies easily, even though he knows that he's got a ways to go before 'shitfaced' comes into play. "Think this place is closing, though."

[misanthrope_md]

Yes, House was well aware of that. Otherwise he wouldn't be bothering with conversation, he'd just be going inside.

"I thought maybe a resourceful guy like yourself might have some booze squirreled away somewhere." As he spoke, Fucker moved in warily to sniff at McCoy's hand.

[leftwithmybones]

McCoy glances to the dog and gives him a good pat-down, rubbing behind his ears as he shifts slightly to hide a sway of his feet. It doesn't take more than a slight gesture to invite House onwards. "C'mon, Scotty built me a still when he did the upgrades on my place and it'd be nice to have someone appreciate the goddamn thing other than just the two of us."

[misanthrope_md]

House looked as if he highly approved of this plan. "Lead on," he said, pointing with his cane, and then began limping after McCoy, the dog trotting along ahead of them.

"So what are you drinking to forget?" he asked bluntly.

[leftwithmybones]

"Thought you wanted to drink with me, not play sharesies," McCoy scowls and keeping his eyes on the dog as he keeps up a decent pace, but makes sure that House isn't going to get lost. "Because I'm not a talking memoir, damn it. Besides, my life is boring. It doesn't have to be interesting to be crappy."