Post by Dr.House on Jul 24, 2008 22:30:33 GMT -5
Unlike other days, House seemed to have been caught amongst the 'beauty' of what nature had left to offer around him. Where his almost non-existent instincts brought him was just apart of the usual random travel. On his motorcycle, he rode down a long gravel dirt trail utill he reached a dead end. Apparently, forgetting time had a grip on reality, he hadn't even noticed it had taken him about 15 minutes to get to the abandoned black pond he just (almost)stumbled across, and that was going about 115mph on the motor bike.
House now had the engine turned off and he was stopped, an echo bounced behind him and died. Now all was quiet, aside from the stupid birds. He didn't like birds. House leaned over enough to get a foot on the ground and swung his other over. You might think just because he was crippled that he could not do amazing things like ride a motorcycle at such high speeds like he did, but. . . big surprise, your wrong.
Taking his helmet off and putting it on the seat of his motorcycle, he looked over at the pond and squinted slightly from the change of SUV rays, still creeping through the clouds, for his helmet was tinted. Very nifty indeed. Pulled the flaming cane from his back, between his shirt and leather jacket, and made his way over closer to the body of water. Black liquid glass. It looked like. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at the small screen[flip phone] and saw that he had 3 new voicemails. He rolled his eyes and opened the device. Pressed power, followed by the sound of the power down beeps, he flipped the phone shut and slipped it back in his pocket.
When he looked at this pond, he felt a sense of calm. A sense of belonging, a sense of being able to relate... to this pointless ugly pond. He stepped close enough to the edge and glanced into the reflection. The dark, dismal reflection. The sky looked like it almost had been scorched by the very reflection, it all fit very well to match the tone of this reflection. It was like a photograph. Oh well. He just felt like this pond.. if it had feelings it would surely feel the abandonment, cold distrust and detachment.
He quirked a brow slightly and looked up, over and around the pond, natural human instinct, to know if anyone was watching or present. He saw nothing. Just swaying branches and leaves. The odd leaf falling on the pond. The ripples were kind of entrancing. Nevermind, maybe it was just the Vicodin.
Now what not many of the infected knew[the stupid uninformed ones], was that he was not one of the 'out-to-kill' scientists/doctors. He was one of the ones trying to come up with antidotes to stunt the infection. With all honesty, just so he could observe the genetic pattern the infection took in different people. Not that any of them actually knew that. Only Jason, the paramedic really knew that he really didn't give a crap about any of them. Or anyone for that matter. So far anyways, rolling his eyes anytime that thought crossed his mind. But the bottom line was that he was pretty much most often looked at like he might as well be one of the infected with how he associates with all/any of them willingly and freely. For the one most regular to visit his lab was ..oh whats his name... Shane?...Shae?... Shaun. That must have been it. Shaun. He was an odd case. Kept things interesting. Or else House probably would have just told him to get lost after the 3rd test. But enough about that social reject. Or infected. . .whatever you want to call him, who cares.
