Cameron tapped her foot all the way up in the elevator, thinking she should have taken the stairs--but they were all used to taking the elevator with House--no matter. Foreman and Chase had things under control, another thirty seconds wouldn't make a difference now.
She had her eyes on her clipboard as she walked down the hall and into the office, trying to guess what House would say about these results, trying to formulate a theory--any theory--to offer along with the numbers. The door to House's office was open, and she walked through without looking up from her clipboard, and then she did look up, and froze.
House was sitting at his desk, and Wilson was leaning on it, leaning over him, their foreheads pressed together, mouths a breath apart. They both had their eyes closed; Wilson's hand was on the back of House's neck, and House's hand was on Wilson's wrist. All the air was gone from her lungs; it was more shocking than if she'd found them naked, seeing this quiet certainty between their bodies.
She ought to leave, she ought to go back out and knock--House jerked away from Wilson all at once, his eyes flashing open to stare right at her, and Cameron said, "Ah--uh--"
Dr. Wilson was on his feet and brushing past her, out the door before she could formulate words, and House was glaring darkly. "Yes?" he said, sounding every bit as irritated as he deserved to be.
"Yes?" she repeated blankly.
House's glare turned half-exasperated. "Test results, Doctor Cameron?"
Cameron blinked, shaking her head clear as she looked down at the clipboard. Test results, yes. Thank God. "The patient's white count is up," she said, walking over to the desk to show him, "Way up."