[ ‘Cool!’ he thinks to himself. A morbid thought goes through his head at the sort of stuff that Fishbones can blow up (and how metal it would be if it could smash a tank). Maybe that’s just the monster truck fanboy speaking. Who doesn’t like flashy destruction from time to time? As long as it’s not aimed at his person, who gives a crap?

His eyes glance once more at the rocket launcher, then at his cane. House will gladly play up the old man card if it means finding out why Jinx is lugging that thing around. With a get-up like that, the Chosen should have been setting off the guillotines by now. You can sense all the glances, the side-eyes being pointed towards her, and yet… ]

Damn! Thought I had you there. I’m searching for a new hospice nurse to hand-feed me tapioca.

[ The sarcasm is as thick as molasses in his tone. ]

Pay’s terrible, but you know? The goodness of your heart. Justice. All that cozy stuff.

[ He steadily lifts both his feet up from the arm of the loveseat and swings them over to the side. There is a slight stagger in his movement from his bad leg, but both feet land on the floor and House is sitting upright. ]

Or I can ask your buddy over there to do me a solid. He seems fun at Bingo Night.