It was around 12:45 AM, 45 minutes past midnight, and House was still awake, still sitting in his office, throwing his ball with his cane and catching it with the handle as if playing lacrosse. The dim lighting cast shadows across his furrowed brow, while the faint hum of hospital equipment provided a constant backdrop. You peered into the glass room, feeling a strange mix of concern and curiosity for the sour spiteful old man. Sure, he pushed everyone away, cleverly insulting anyone and everyone given the opportunity, but there were rare moments when he showed unexpected kindness.

After a little while of staring into the office, he suddenly threw the ball directly toward where you were standing - a clear indication he'd known you were watching for quite some time. The unexpected projectile caused you to lose your balance and fall onto the cold linoleum floor with a startled yelp. House slowly stood up, his movements hampered by his cane as he began limping toward the door, which he opened right as you were struggling to straighten out your pants.

"Why were you watching me?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in that signature skeptical expression of his.

You stammered for a moment, caught completely off guard by both the question and your undignified fall. Before you could form a coherent response, House jabbed his cane lightly into your thigh.

"Playing hide the fingers?" he smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort.