Wilson caught the volunteer just before she could unwittingly enter the hospital's only courtesy-free zone. Glancing through the glass doors, he noted the conspicuous absence of anyone within who might buffer her first interaction with Dr. Gregory House, so he figured he might as well prevent it entirely. Putting on his most charming smile, he inquired, "Dropping something off?"

The girl in the pink- and white-striped blouse shifted nervously, but she smiled back at him. "Oh, the lab sent me up with some results for--" She checked the sign on the door as though she might have gotten it wrong. "Um, Diagnostic Medicine."

"I'll take it for you," he offered. He held out his hand and she released the folder automatically, glancing from him to the door and back again. "I'm going in anyway," Wilson assured her.

"Thanks," she said, a little uncertainly. "Are you sure? I mean, they told me to make sure I handed them to someone in the department..."

So the volunteer director hadn't warned them about House this year. Or if she had, this kid had missed that particular training session. Wilson regarded her with something like pity, then took a step backward and crooked his finger at her to follow. She looked puzzled, but she came with him willingly enough.

"See that man in there?" he asked. He pointed through the doors, toward the glass wall that separated House's office. House could be seen clearly, lounging back in his chair with his eyes closed, hands waving in the air as he conducted whatever music was emanating from his ipod today. There was no way he hadn't noticed them standing out in the hallway gawking at him, which meant he was pointedly ignoring them.

The volunteer peered through the glass reflection at him and Wilson continued, "That's Dr. House. Next time you get sent up to Diagnostic Medicine, try to give things to someone who isn't him. It'll make your life easier."

She gave him a sideways look, glancing back at the office like she was trying to make sure they were watching the same person. "He looks okay to me," she said dubiously.

"That's his disguise," Wilson informed her. "He goes from 'okay' to 'demented' in a microsecond. Tell your friends."

He stepped into the department, smiling over his shoulder at her as he let go of the door. He lifted the file and waggled it slightly before heading for the office. House was still ignoring them, and he didn't open his eyes when Wilson pushed through his door and paused in front of his desk.

He counted to three before he leaned over and turned the music off himself. House's hands stopped in midair, and blue eyes glared at him from underneath a mock-frown. "You know, they make fingerprint scanners for just about everything these days," he remarked. "I'm thinking about getting one for my ipod. What do you think?"

"I think you'll never sneak it past Cuddy as 'office supplies' the way you did with the headphones," Wilson replied. Holding up the folder, he asked, "Waiting for this?"

House squinted at it. "Unless that's the latest copy of Maxim, then no."

"Test results," Wilson prompted. "From the lab?"

House shrugged carelessly. "Cameron's test, Cameron's problem." Raising his eyebrows at Wilson, he added, "Since when are you the lab's messenger boy?"

He tossed the folder on House's desk anyway, knowing his friend would be sticking his nose in Cameron's case the minute he was bored. He might as well save him the trouble of leaving the office. "I intercepted a volunteer in the hallway. Hate to see one quit so soon."

"I told them," House said, with exaggerated patience, "not to give me one of those pimply-faced teenagers looking for 'community service' to put on their college applications." He said "community service" the way anyone else would say "juvenile delinquency."

"Like they'd let you have one after last summer," Wilson scoffed. "You went through four in a week! You're on Agnes' bad list."

"Ooh, I'm shaking," House said flatly. "Here's an idea: maybe the director of volunteers could direct her volunteers, preferably somewhere far away from me, and I could do my job instead of pandering to a bunch of whiny adolescents."

"Insofar as 'doing your job' involves listening to loud music and ignoring your staff's cases, I'd say you're there," Wilson observed.

House gave him an inscrutable look from under his eyebrows. "I suppose you have one," he grumbled.

"Yes, for some reason they don't find Oncology as intimidating as Diagnostic Medicine," Wilson agreed. "Couldn't tell you why, really. Constant immediate contact with the terminally ill versus detached clinical research on the typically curable... what could possibly be the balancing factor?"

"Bribes," House declared. "Definitely the bribes.

"Cameron!" he yelled, before Wilson could answer. "Lab results!"

Wilson glanced over his shoulder just as Cameron stuck her head into the office. She caught his eye and nodded. He smiled back, picking up the folder from House's desk and handing it to her.

"They're negative," House said loudly, balancing his cane against the floor and pushing the handle from one hand to the other.

Cameron didn't bat an eye. "The family will be relieved to hear that," she said, and she turned to leave without another word.

"How do you know that?" Wilson asked, watching her cross the department floor without bothering to open the folder and see for herself.

"I have magic powers," House replied. When Wilson turned to look at him, he spun the cane's handle as he pushed it toward his other hand. Catching it with a flourish he added, "And I told the lab to call me if they found anything."

Not bored, Wilson decided, studying him. Just distracting himself, then. Boredom would have merited an actual trip to the lab, with accompanying harassment of anyone and everyone he met along the way. Cameron was lucky her case wasn't interesting enough to warrant more than idle spying.

Why was Cameron here, he wondered suddenly? The others had obviously sensed their boss' foul mood and found somewhere else to lay low. With no patients currently requiring the concerted effort of the entire department, they were taking advantage of the lull to avoid House and his...

No. They weren't avoiding House. He was avoiding them, avoiding everyone after the events of the last few days. That was why he had called the lab instead of venturing out into the corridors himself to spread irascibility far and wide. And it wasn't the fresh infusion of summer volunteers that he was afraid of running into.

It had never occurred to him that House would actually take his advice and stay away.

"Messenger duty," House said abruptly. He was staring at the wall. "Running files. They volunteer for that sort of menial labor. They're not even getting paid," he emphasized, as though the word "volunteer" might not have been clear enough. "And it's not like they're saving lives or anything."

Wilson waited, but House seemed to have trailed off. Which really would be a first, but if he was going to pause long enough for someone else to get a word in, Wilson wasn't above taking advantage of it. "Still stuck on that? Come on, they're young; what else have they got to do?"

"Well, if you take Foreman as an example," House grumbled, "there's vandalism, larceny, juvenile detention... the list goes on. Why do they have to come here for that? We already have our share of miscreants and liars."

"Altruism will continue to exist," Wilson informed him, "no matter your determined efforts to snuff it out."

For a long moment there was no answer, though he could read the reply on his friend's face loud and clear. Must be nice, his expression said. That was it, just a single look of regret before he shrugged it off and glared half-heartedly at the man standing in front of him.

"They'll learn," House predicted.