as_damaged | ☎ voicemail

Stuck here with Foreman.

[Chase is wearing an expression likening this to a fate worse than death as he drowns out the sandwich with more of her mysteriously hard to pinpoint yet definitely fruity flavoured coffee. Leans back and watches her a while.]

Are you missing it yet? Or is every day here still an adventure?

Missing Foreman?

[She arches an eyebrow deviously at that, fingers curling around her cup.]

I can't help but feel that time here is time wasted. I'd like to get back to reality... but, there's not much to do to help that.

[She shrugs, looking down at nothing as she takes a sip of her coffee, not wanting to watch him watch her. Though she doesn't really mind it, and she's still faintly smiling.]

What about you?

[Do you still think you're dying? Of course he must. Sometimes she thinks he might be right, that maybe he's just some manifestation of her subconscious, trying to prod her back towards rationality.]

[Of course he does, but there are stages of thinking you're dying. Chase has flipped back and forth through six of them several times over without ever quite moving on to acceptance, but he's closer to it now than he has been since arriving. Even if that's taken shoving the fear and the confusion somewhere rational thought can't quite reach it.]

I always miss Foreman. Got some of my best sleep in while he was talking.

[He stirs his coffee, eyeing the dubious swirl of incongruous flavours mingling more.]

Maybe you shouldn't waste it.

[She glances up at that, rubbing thoughtfully at the lip of the cup.]

Logically, is there any way not to? I sincerely doubt we'll remember any of our time here, in the real world. So anything we do, anything we learn-- it can only have temporary significance.

[That should be liberating, shouldn't it? Sometimes she feels like it is, though on the whole it just feels like she's getting nowhere.]

My point. [Chase raises his cup in a toast to possibilities.]

If no one remembers what you do here, you could do anything. No consequences. If this place is real then it's a literal tabula rasa for the duration. If it's not real- [He shrugs, gesturing empty circles] Same rule applies. Who are you keeping up appearances to?

That assumes there are appearances to keep up. Just because you could do anything doesn't necessarily mean that you want to.

[It's a sidestep, and something of a lie. She keeps up appearances for her own sake; for his sake, though he doesn't know it. Cameron can't honestly claim she isn't prey to insane urges, from time to time; can't even claim it convincingly. So, she shifts the question back, skepticism evident in her tone.]

Is that how you're looking at it? License to do whatever you like?

There are appearances to keep up.

[Statement. One sidelong glance at Cameron recalls being pressed up against the wall of her apartment, wide, dark pupils looking back at him. It took one sermonising junkie and a brush with disease to push her to that. Not that he suspects there's a drugged up party girl bursting to get out from underneath her lab coat, but they both know there's more than meets the eye.]

I'd like to look at it like that. On the one hand if I tell House to stuff his job here I still end up down on my rent. [Leaning forward, he liberates the spoon from the cooling cup of coffee, tapping the end of it against his lip.] On the other, I've got plenty of free time.

[She manages not to react, which is a reaction in itself. Just because there are no consequences to jumping pretty people doesn't make it a good idea, though. Still, point to Chase, because she can't argue with him.]

I guess if you could find a better prospect... The job isn't the same here. I think that's what I miss, mostly.

I think I'm liking it. [He admits, spoon now flipped and tucked into a corner of his mouth. He has no idea how ridiculous this looks.]

Maybe it's not less insane, but it's at least a different kind. You could pick up a few hours at the hospital. Get away from House for a bit, practice what you actually trained for. More money, too.

Not a bad idea.

[She smiles, not so much at the suggestion as at his chewing on the spoon. It's kind of endearing, in a hopeless way. Though there's some merit to what he says. Cameron often finds herself looking for excuses to be elsewhere, after all. A cat can only provide so much company.]

It's... the same issue of significance, though. It has nothing to do with House. What we do, what he does-- it makes a difference. We do what other doctors can't. That's what I miss.

[She swirls her cup, watching the coffee creep up the sides of it. Here some people can wave a wand and cure diseases, it's hard not to feel irrelevant.]

We made a difference to the kid who forgot to wear his flea collar last week. His liver had about six hours to go before it turned into pate. There might be quicker fixes around but we're still not out of work.

[All this slurred slightly around the silverware, gripped between his teeth but bobbing slightly as he speaks. Gray, stalking the back of the couch, bumps against his shoulder before leaping down to fill the gap between them with purring furball.]

You're significant. You don't have to ride a broomstick or come from the planet Zog. Ask the patients.

[Ask him.]

[Cameron reaches out to scratch the cat's chin. Asking Chase isn't in her plans; she doesn't think she really wants to hear the answer.]

I know. Though I still miss it.

[In some ways, at least. If she were to be totally honest-- or rather, totally open-- there are things she likes here. She likes a lot of the people she's met. She likes not fighting with Chase. But she can't imagine the City ever feeling like anything more than a break, a lapse in reality.]

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