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Cuddy: Nooo.
House: Need a consult.
Cuddy: I already okayed your nerve biopsy.
House: Need an endocrinologist.
Cuddy: Bennett's on call.
House: Won't pick up. His cell phone must be broken.
Cuddy: Mine's working.
House: Had to give you the file.
Cuddy: I assume you're thinking thyroid storm. You've done a hormone panel?
House: Normal. TSH was on the low side. Is that a cheery fire I hear crackling nearby?
Cuddy: No. How about CPK enzymes?
House: Elevated. 275. Of course, people light fires for themselves... but then they don't deny it. He's here.
Cuddy: CPK isn't high enough. Potassium is what you'd expect because of the bronchdilators.
House: Oh my God! You're not wearing a bra!
Cuddy: It's not thyroid storm.
House: You just met him!
Cuddy: I like him. And I like sex! Do I need to stitch a letter on my tops?
House: No. Might be worth taking out an ad in the local papers.
Cuddy: Do you like me, House? I was on the phone with Bennett fifteen minutes ago. His cell phone's working. *Your* M.O. is to avoid me at all costs, and suddenly you need my input on *every* move you make! I can only assume it's because I'm on a date!
House: When we met, I noticed --
Cuddy: You noticed he was a shriner because of the way he parted his hair; you noticed he was a momma's boy because of the way he blinked his left eye... I'm not interested. I'm not impressed! There are two reasons that anyone would want to screw with me tonight: either they're an altruistic, decent person who's worried about my well-being *or* they want me for *themself*.
House: You left out the third option. Evil bastard who just wants to mess with other people's happiness.
Cuddy: Good night, House.

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Video: Daydreambeliever90
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