Original subtitles

I have been fantasizing about this for months.

Forget it. We're not here to fool around.

I'm not fooling around.

I need this.

You're an idiot. You know that?

Just shut up and give me a boost.

Hurry your ass up.

Hey, sometimes a guy's got to do

what a guy's got to do.

Jaguar one to control.

Uh, sorry for the delay.

Glenn had to take a leak. It was unavoidable.

Target area is clear.

Target area confirmed clear.

Dr. Lee, target area is cleared.

Launch vehicle's in range. All systems go.

Thank you, Cesar. Whenever you're ready.

The CT-10's light enough to launch from a UAV,

but can penetrate 8 feet of 6,000-psi concrete

before detonation.

Bomb's away.

Precision guidance system's not affected

by darkness or weather and can hit

a 2-foot-wide target from 69,000 feet.

What about sound?

None inbound at all.

We've developed a new fan

and a baffling design that--

ordnance on target in three, two, one.

I feel better already.

You need to see a shrink.

Seriously.

Well done.

Wendy!

Call 911!

www.facebook.com/gatonplay

www.facebook.com/gatonplay

Massive Attack's ♪ Teardrop ♪

Karma's a bitch.

You think her seizures are the result of bad karma?

I think if you spend your days

designing ever more effective ways

to blow people up, stuff's bound to come back to you.

Thirsty.

Side effect of a new antihistamine I'm on.

You don't seem congested.

Hmm, intriguing.

You have any thoughts about our patient?

Got some questions about whether Thirteen

really believes in karma or just wants to.

As for the patient,

it's not gonna be easy to break into her office.

Might want to start with her home.

We could ask to look

through her office and we could do an MRI first.

Sure. Go ahead.

If you're not interested in the case,

why'd you take it?

I am definitely interested.

Could be a tumor. Could be a CNS bleed.

What do you do when you got two interesting puzzles?

Two?

50 bucks!

Pay up.

♪ Uh mmm mmm ♪

Let's go. Let's go.

Bet's off.

Fight was fixed.

That punch barely touched him.

You bet on Foley to beat Zachary?

Speed beats power...

Unless speed has been paid

to speedily take a dive.

He touched him enough to put him on the canvas

and the official counted him out,

which means you officially owe me

50 bucks.

We bet on a sporting event.

That was not sporting.

Less than 30 seconds.

That was barely even event-y.

Okay, here's what I saw.

You lost and I won.

Yeah, well, you can take that to your grave.

You're not taking my 50 bucks.

Prove it.

Prove it or pay up.

You got one day.

And don't make me send my boys out looking for you.

What?

All right.

So, two puzzles.

Tie goes to the one that costs me money.

Keep each other posted.

I've always been healthy.

I never even get colds.

I guess your luck finally ran out.

I take it she doesn't like people who makes bombs.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.

It's all right.

Half of my family feels the same way.

Of course they all work on Wall Street, so...

Ever since the first 4th of July I can remember,

I've always loved explosions.

When I got to college and I had to pick a major,

figured I might as well pick something I'm passionate about.

Destroying things.

You weren't passionate about anything else?

Bombs are tools, just like anything else.

You can use it to make things better

or you can use it to make things worse.

I also like romantic poetry

and picnics.

Is there anything else you want to know

before we do this MRI?

Nope.

Try to stay as still as possible.

This shouldn't take long.

Hey, how's it going?

You mind?

I mean, there are plenty of other seats.

I'm not here to judge.

You did what was best for you

and I got no problem with that.

I'm not gonna ask you nice again.

Just go away. Or what?

You're suddenly gonna fall down?

Listen. I got a problem.

A guy who knows absolutely nothing about boxing,

because of you, now thinks he does.

You can imagine the potential ramifications.

I need you to get on the phone with him

and tell him you took a dive.

I didn't take a dive.

Take a picture of you to prove that it was really you

and we're done.

Just enough to convince him.

Not enough to get you in any trouble.

I didn't take a dive.

Yeah.

That story's getting boring.

Look, I'm not from the commission.

I'm not some bookie.

I'm a doctor. This is my I.D.

Look, if you were a bookie,

you'd know no one pays a guy to throw a fight

he has no chance to win.

I was a 12-to-1 underdog.

Lost my last five fights.

But you were the better fighter.

That last punch barely touched you.

You ever been barely touched by a guy

who weighs 230 pounds?

Look at me.

Look where I am, what I'm wearing.

Now, do I look like a guy who just got a payday?

I didn't throw the fight.

I just suck.

Ha!

Proof.

Just because he wasn't hit in the face--

Look at his pupils.

He has anisocoria, which, given his age,

the adrenaline surge of the fight,

the fact that he's still alive

means he was tachycardic.

He has Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome.

The bet was on who would win,

not who would live the longest.

If he's physically unable to continue

because of a preexisting illness,

then it's technically a "no contest,"

which means all bets are off.

You know that just because I was right

about this one fighter doesn't make you

any less of a man?

Actually, it would if you were right.

Then as I said earlier, prove it.

And one possibly photoshopped cell phone pic

does not a diagnosis make.

Oh, excuse me, Dr. House.

Desole, je parle pas anglais.

I'm a co-worker of Wendy Lee's.

I'm also her boyfriend.

Great. I'm a guy who doesn't care.

She's your patient.

Oh, you thought I didn't know who Wendy Lee was?

Yeah, makes sense. I'm not good at names.

Did Dr. Fortune tell you that?

Her last boyfriend was a real nut.

He's basically stalking her.

See, this is what I don't care about.

I don't care who cares about her.

Used to care about her.

Either one you falls down dead, you can drop me a note.

I think I know what's wrong with her.

You screwed up in the lab

and accidentally spilled some bomb on her?

No.

He really is crazy.

Poisoned?

Apparently our mad scientist

is also a slutty scientist

whose milkshakes got all the nerds in the yard

fighting over her.

She's a slut because she's dated two different guys at work?

Oh, I'm sorry.

I thought we were still judging her.

She's not a slut and it's not poison.

When we tested her blood and cerebral spinal fluid

for toxic exposure, it was negative

for every poison we could think of.

Well, that just leaves

every poison we didn't think of.

She works in a bomb factory.

So do a lot of other not-sick people.

The guy had any actual evidence

she was poisoned, he would have gone to the police,

not to us.

And if we had any evidence of what was wrong with her,

you'd be showing us MRI results.

I assume they were negative.

Couldn't hurt to start activated charcoal, see what happens.

You know what else wouldn't hurt?

This case is getting interesting.

Let's add a little danger.

Hmm.

Just because he has guns

doesn't make him a murderer.

Tell that to the bear. Look in the desk.

See if he's got a diary or a journal.

Something tells me he's not exactly

a diary kind of guy.

Maybe a manifesto.

Just look.

I'm gonna check out the rest of the place,

see if he's got a computer.

It's Foreman. Yep?

You break in yet?

Yeah, we're in the abattoir now.

Why? You can leave.

I think Taub and I found what we're looking for.

Looks like she actually was being poisoned,

but she's been doing it to herself.

I'm not an alcoholic. I know.

I know the whole label thing is so limiting.

You're a person who happens to suffer from alcoholism.

You broke into my house and now you're being a smartass?

During your history, you said you didn't drink at all.

I don't.

- You just collect bottles. - Yes.

I collect them for my friend.

She uses them in her art projects.

And you're ashamed of these art projects.

The bottles were hidden.

That's because my housekeeper keeps throwing them out.

I've told her a dozen times not to,

but either she doesn't understand or she doesn't care.

- Why would she lie? - That's the easy question.

She needs a government security clearance for her job.

And what's the hard question?

If she's an alcoholic, why doesn't she have

at least some partially-full bottles in the house?

I mean, why keep the empties?

Why not just throw them away?

So she's probably telling the truth.

So what do we do?

We start her on valium for alcohol withdrawal.

It's the best we've got right now.

One normal EKG does not a healthy person make.

Look, I told you I just suck.

Oh, you make me so sad.

- Don't talk like that. - Why do you care so much?

Kill me for loving my patients.

It's just what I do.

Hey, stop. Stop!

Look, my--my leg hurts. Okay?

Just talk to me for a moment.

You don't have to be a loser.

Thanks.

Whatever's wrong with you, it's real.

Sick is good.

Sick means you can get better.

You could get better.

And I don't mean healthier.

I mean...

Maybe you don't have to suck.

Figure out what's wrong with yourself.

Leave me alone.

Abdominal pain.

She said it felt like she was being stabbed.

Ah!

Give her morphine, 5 milligrams IV.

Is it a symptom of the underlying condition

or a symptom of our treatment?

We'll know soon. I stopped her treatment.

We should restart it.

Acute pancreatitis from alcoholism

would cause this kind of pain.

It's stress related.

She's in a lot of pain. She's under a lot of stress.

She's got two guys fighting over her

and she got done with the final test of a new bomb.

Her guilt is killing her.

As far as you know, she likes being the center

of attention and loves her job.

As far as you know, she doesn't drink.

What if it's a kidney infection?

Acute pyelonephritis could kill her

if we don't start her on IV antibiotics.

Would kill her if it was pyelonephritis,

but since her urine and CSF

don't show signs of infection--

I paged House.

What? We got nothing.

Less than nothing since he's actually ignoring my pages,

which means we have a sick patient

and apparently a sick boss.

Tell him you admit he's right.

Let's get him back to work.

If he's ignoring you, it's because he trusts you.

No, it's not.

No, it's not, but he does.

Thanks. I feel warm inside.

Right now I'm debating

which bad idea I should pretend is a good idea

and force everybody to implement.

I think this is good for him.

Obsessing over a bet is good?

And doing his actual job, treating actual patients,

that's bad?

House only doing what House wants

is the only way he can function.

Since the breakup, he's been seeking out

crazier and crazier things to do because they're crazy.

This is--well, it's not crazy.

No, just irresponsible and possibly dangerous.

By House standards, it's dull.

This he's doing

just because he's interested.

I think House getting back to doing...

Stupid House stuff for stupid House reasons

is the best thing that could happen to him.

I'll go explain that to the patient.

It's definitely not pancreatitis.

Restarting the treatment obviously didn't help anything.

I assume you tested for infections.

And I assume that look means "yes, and I was wrong."

You call for a psych consult?

Wow.

That's the same look I just got from Chase.

So an hour ago, we had three theories

we couldn't agree on.

Now we've got no theories, but we're in agreement.

CT and ultrasound showed inflammation

in the renal capsule.

Could be an obstructing calculus

or a perinephric abscess.

Blood cultures came back negative.

It's probably just a benign cyst.

Yes, let's just dismiss an idea because it's probably nothing.

Could be gas in the perinephric space,

in which case, we should be prepping her

for emergency surgery.

What looks like Wolff-Parkinson-White

but isn't?

Her EKG was normal. So was his.

That's why I said "looks like."

As in similar to, but not the same.

You want us to help you get out of paying your bet

while your actual patient lies in agony.

Who's the real bad guy here?

The guy who doesn't care enough to help

or the four guys who are not competent enough to help?

He works out too much, gets pounded too much,

and not in the romantic way.

His pupils-- I got it.

Your patient? No.

Plenty of time to save her life

after we save my money.

Underlying neurological condition

exacerbated by an acute UTI brought on

by her sexual escapades.

Slut? Escapades?

How do we treat? A Scarlet "A"?

Sorry.

Acute UTI brought on

by her healthy enjoyment of her womanhood.

We start her on IV ampicillin and an aminoglycoside.

You ignore us all the time.

You go on crazy joyrides all the time.

But you answer pages, you sleep.

I know I'm gonna regret doing this,

but I'll ask anyway.

Is there anything I can do to help?

Although...

Great news!

You have an underlying neurological condition,

which together with your heart--

you said my heart was fine.

Yeah, I also said I would get you your career back.

But it doesn't seem to matter

since you've so clearly been handed

the golden spit bucket.

Sympathetic overdrive.

It's a medical term.

So is "great news."

Of course, if you prefer wallowing...

All you need is a chin.

And a heart, apparently.

Then you can go back

to being the guy who won

20 of his first 20 instead of the guy

who lost 5 of his last 5.

Although, technically, I count the last one as a "no contest."

And you save 50 bucks. I'm a doctor.

I don't tell a fat guy to lay off bacon for less than 300.

This is about dignity for both of us.

Give me your arm.

Give me your arm.

What the hell?

Don't worry.

It's just epinephrine.

Ep--is it dangerous?

In the wrong hands, very.

So...Yeah, sort of.

This will only take a few seconds.

And...you are tachycardic.

Yo, are you psycho?

We combine the increased heart rate with chest trauma

by applying a little sweet science to the science.

Don't worry.

I'll--I'll explain more when you wake up.

Now, the punch that supposedly knocked you out

looked like it was thrown by an old cripple.

Kind of like this.

Look, stop it.

Three...

Two, one.

Huh.

Seem to be older and more crippled than I thought.

Look--no. You're embarrassing me.

Doesn't make sense.

Maybe if I--

Look, get the hell out of my life, you lunatic.

She's in V-tach. BP's dropping.

Whatever you're doing isn't working again.

There's got to be some way to stop the seizures.

It's not a seizure. She's having a heart attack.

No pulse. That's impossible!

She runs marathons!

Charging to 200. Clear.

Still no pulse.

Charging to 300.

Why is this happening? Clear.

My theory is that he's only avoiding us

because he really wants to avoid you.

Ma nishtanah?

You made it through med school without ever attending a Seder?

It means "why is this night different

from all other nights?"

I'm not sure it is.

But usually when push comes to shove, he shows up.

If the patient's still alive, then push hasn't met shove yet.

Patient is hanging by a thread

and we don't have a clue why.

Then we have to assume he does and she isn't.

We could or we could assume that something

is seriously wrong with House

and try to do something about that.

This way, even if we're wrong, nobody dies.

House is fine.

House is always fine.

I'm expanding my theory.

He's avoiding you and you're avoiding him

and this patient is gonna die.

Not if you do your job.

You're an idiot.

How did you get in here?

My boss has me break into places all the time.

Pain has been getting worse.

I figured if I upped the Vicodin any more,

I'd end up back in a rubber room,

so this seemed like the smarter choice.

You're an idiot.

You drove all the way over here

to break in and call me an idiot?

No, I drove all the way over here to tell you

we're implanting an automated cardio-defibrillator,

which won't actually do anything to help the patient

except maybe give us enough time to come up with a guess

as to what's actually wrong with her.

Oh, that makes more sense.

And I broke in here because Cuddy and Wilson

both separately asked me to.

Even more logical.

And that's not heroin,

which means you knew I was coming over here,

and Cuddy and Wilson are right.

You're just playing a game.

Throwing out a bone and watching us fight over it.

There is another theory.

Compound CS-804.

It's an experimental drug

that's supposed to regrow muscle.

This experiment was done on rats.

It's groundbreaking. Huge success.

In rats.

Well, they got four legs.

Think how fast it should work on one.

You're an idiot.

We've got a problem.

AICD not working?

If it's the defibrillator, I'd be looking elsewhere.

Smells like bleeding.

Rectal?

And vaginal.

Is it possible something got perforated during surgery?

Is that an accusation?

Sounded like a question.

Just a straightforward inquiry

that only someone with serious insecurities

would take issue with.

Okay, so in answering, I have to decide

between the only two possibilities.

"No" and "yes, we might have screwed something up,

"but are intentionally hiding it

because we're incompetent and we're asses."

Answer is "no."

Glad we didn't shortchange that avenue.

It's a blood disorder.

A coagulopathy. That's not a diagnosis.

That's like saying she has a runny nose.

True, but not saying she has a runny nose

risks getting snot all over us.

We can treat it. Cause could still be a toxin.

She must have been exposed to who knows--

Past tense, which means she would have been better

now that she's not.

Same goes for House.

If this was about Cuddy,

he would have checked out weeks ago.

Something else is going on. Something new.

That's an awfully simplistic approach

to matters of the heart.

House is rational. He prides himself--

no one is rational about emotion.

That's why they're emotions.

What do you think?

Me? I didn't say anything. Exactly.

You always have some opinion on these things,

especially when it comes to House,

double especially when it comes to men and romance,

but suddenly you're keeping your mouth shut.

House can't help us.

I respect his privacy,

no matter how stupid and I'd appreciate it

if you'd respect mine.

We need to treat the underlying condition.

Could be cancer, sepsis, trauma,

liver disease, hemorrhagic fever--

I'm gonna start treating the symptoms

while you finish listing the possible causes.

The rats are doing great.

"Great" is a little vague.

Even better than the previous study.

12% increase in strength,

22% in flexibility, and some improvement

in at least 60% of the subjects.

Have you done maximum tolerated dose studies?

Not yet.

But that's part of the beauty.

Since the compound is easily excreted in urine,

as long as they keep hydrated,

there's really no reason to expect any danger

at virtually any dose.

I mean, obviously you can't know for sure.

But if it's worthy of the preface "obviously,"

then obviously it only needs to be explained to idiots.

Do I look like an idiot?

Sorry.

Cranky.

What I meant to say was:

Why don't scientists have groupies?

'Cause I'd do you right now if society wasn't telling me

that you're just an underpaid dork.

Thank you.

You all right?

Leg hurts.

Would you mind getting me a coffee?

How does coffee help your leg?

It will prevent me from walking to get the coffee.

Right.

Page said she's now bleeding from her mouth.

You start treatment?

I said I would.

A "yes" would have been fine.

Not asking the question would have been even better.

Any breathing issues?

No, but--

I'm not sure it's internal.

If it's coming from both ends, it's internal.

Her gums look like they were burned.

Experimental drugs?

That's unfair.

'Cause at one point, even Vicodin

was an experimental drug.

I have to go.

Well, unless you're going to do your job,

it can wait. I'm going to do my job.

I'll give you a lift.

I'll give you two minutes.

But first, I'm gonna tell you that I'm off the drugs

and you'll feel silly 'cause you've got

nothing to say for two minutes.

Hmm.

Why are you off them?

Because they don't work.

Why were you on them?

Because they come in banana flavor.

You know the answer.

You think fixing your leg will fix your life.

I think that my life will be somewhat better

if part of my life, specifically my leg,

is somewhat better.

You think all your problems are your leg.

And you're here to tell me that no matter

how depressed I may be, it's not enough.

I think you want everything to be physical, tangible,

simple.

You want unhappiness to have a cure.

House, you obviously--

I hate that word.

I have to go now.

Actually, I don't,

but it would be rude to walk out without saying anything.

What about this?

28-year-old woman presenting with burn-like wounds

in her mouth and esophagus

from a candidiasis infection.

Interesting.

It would also be relevant if the woman had had seizures.

If the fungus had entered her bloodstream--

we would have seen it in the blood work.

Acute myeloid leukemia

can cause swelling in the gums.

Again, interesting but not relevant.

Again, you're being an ass.

She doesn't have a history of blood diseases in her family,

her blood count's normal, and she hasn't

been exposed to chemical toxins.

Not that we know of.

Guy that she works most closely with is also her boyfriend.

You don't think he would have told us

if there had been some sort of chemical spill or accident?

There is one other cause of AML.

Wait!

Where are you taking her?

We need to get her into an isolation room

and prep for a hematopoietic stem cell transplant.

Isolation? Why?

We think her blood and immune system

have been destroyed by an exposure to ionizing radiation.

But we don't work with radiation.

Well, apparently your girlfriend does.

No, she doesn't. You're wrong.

It must be something else.

We found reports that your company

was developing tactical nuclear warheads

for bunker-busting bombs.

Where? On Wikipedia? Some paranoid idiot's blog?

I don't care where you read it.

It's not true.

You're saying there's absolutely no chance

that anyone in your company is doing

any experimental research that you don't know about?

No, but I know Wendy and she wouldn't.

Well, maybe you don't know her as well as you thought you did.

Excuse me. We have to go.

You need a drink.

I'm fine.

That wasn't a question.

You really do need a drink.

Found a match.

We'll start treatment as soon

as we get the HSC from the donor.

Shouldn't be long.

Where's Cesar?

Uh, he's in the waiting room.

I want to see him.

You can't.

It's too dangerous with your immune system this compromised.

Why can't he just put on a gown and a mask like you?

I'm sorry.

The more people you're exposed to,

the greater chance of infection.

I'm scared.

I know.

We're doing everything that we can.

Cesar will be with you soon.

Dr. Foreman, you should look at this.

What is it?

You feeling any pain in your pelvic region?

No, why?

Your genitals... They're engorged.

I drink any more, I'm gonna explode.

You're not going to explode.

You're just gonna have a seizure,

which will prove that your kidneys are not working,

which will also prove that they weren't working Saturday night.

That's why a glancing body blow

sent your blood pressure into the toilet

and you onto the canvas.

How many bottles is this supposed to take?

Six.

And I've drank how many?

Eight.

It's not an exact science.

So in other words,

nothing's gonna prove you wrong.

You're just gonna keep making me miserable

because you're too miserable--

you're an idiot.

No, you're not gonna hit me...

'Cause somewhere deep in that way-too-thin skull of yours

you know that you're full of crap.

That's why you stopped jogging for me.

That's why you drank eight bottles.

Because even though you want to think that I'm wrong

'cause it's simpler, you also desperately want me

to be right.

I'm only an ass for building your hopes up if I'm wrong.

Last one.

You're an ass.

You were wrong.

It's not the end of the world.

Anything else you want to say?

You have a problem.

I think if you seriously look

at everything that--

anything else?

Okay, look, this isn't--

okay! Okay! Okay! Okay!

No...I don't.

Just get out of here.

Go home. We'll talk later.

Someplace without any of my stuff.

Nothing to talk about.

That was my point.

Inflammation of the genitals

means we were wrong.

Thanks for the statement of the obvious.

You'd think so, wouldn't you?

Foreman wants to keep shooting for radiation poisoning.

Because the seizure's have stopped.

Because her fever's gone away.

- Because she's improved. - By luck.

I don't think the patient cares.

Yes, she's gonna die in considerably less discomfort

thanks to you treating a few of the symptoms

instead of the disease.

I paged Ho-- Shut up.

You're drunk.

Well, whose fault is that?

Give me another scotch.

I can't serve you.

This 'cause I'm black?

'Cause I'm not, so...

Come on, buddy.

Look, you can't get me drunk and then give me crap

for being drunk.

That's like dumping someone

and then giving them crap for being upset.

That's just not decent.

Let me explain why people come here.

They come here to drink.

Which causes us to ask, why do people drink?

Hmm? Is it sustenance?

No. Is it taste?

No. Don't be a jerk.

Is it the company of stout-hearted men?

I don't think so.

Is it killing pain?

Yes.

7 1/2% life duller.

That's the business you're in.

You're in the "screw the world" business.

You're in the "reality sucks

and fantasy temporarily appears to not suck" business.

Just get the moron a drink so he'll shut the hell up.

No.

I'm giving you your drink. Have you no pride?

Either serving me is a good idea or it's a bad idea.

Shutting me up is a crappy reason

for compromising what you believe.

Not even an effective one apparently.

Am I gonna have to hit him?

Not a good idea.

But what if it's the right thing to do?

Compromise is never the answer.

Stand up.

I will allow you to throw the first punch.

Sit down.

I'm not gonna hit you.

Just as well, 'cause I was lying.

You can relax.

She's getting better?

Bad news is, because of your extended exposure to her

and her workplace, we're gonna need

to treat you as well.

I feel fine.

Unfortunately that's the way it can be with radiation.

No symptoms until it's too late to do anything.

You're gonna need a bone marrow transplant.

No.

A marrow transplant does leave you exposed

to all sorts of illnesses,

but there really is no choice here.

She doesn't have radiation poisoning.

She's getting better.

We need to start your treatment

before it's too late.

No.

You're either suicidal

or you know we're wrong.

And the only way you could know for sure

what wasn't killing her is if you knew what was.

And you do, don't you?

Because you've been poisoning her

and the reason she's getting better

is because you haven't been near her.

Our co-workers are on their way

to your home right now to search for poisons.

You mind saving them the trouble?

Attempted murder is better than murder.

What are you doing here?

Training for my big fight.

Just need you to--

drink five more bottles?

Get punched a few more times?

Look, just get out and give up.

That's your specialty.

Ooh, looks like you already lost your big fight.

Look, I may not be able to take a punch,

but I can still throw one.

Three, two...

What a lovely day.

Where's Cesar?

Um...In jail.

He was trying to kill you.

He found out about you and Glenn,

which, he admitted, shouldn't have surprised him

since he started seeing you while you were dating Tony.

He poisoned me?

Repeatedly... With Spanish fly.

The active ingredient cantharidin is a potent toxin

and can cause a lot of the same damage as radiation.

He poisoned me?

I'm sorry.

He had a security clearance.

Ahem!

What's this?

A palm.

Hmm, useful for many things.

Slapping, greasing, probably some other applications too.

Right now it's ready for $50 and humiliation.

He was actually sick?

He wasn't knocked out by the punch.

He was knocked out by the clinch before the punch.

Took a shot to the back of the neck.

More specifically, to an abnormal growth of nerves

caused by a glomus tumor.

Kind of like a built-in taser.

Sent a massive shock to his entire body,

shut everything down.

Wow. Fascinating.

Completely explains exactly how he lost.

Oh, you are not gonna be like that,

'cause you got a lot more posters here.

No, I'm not.

Well done, House.

You might have saved that guy.

Given him his life back.

Oh, no. He needs surgery.

He's never gonna fight again.

What happened to your eye?

You okay?

Better than okay.

♪ 'Cause that unseen eye is watching you ♪

♪ ♪

♪ please don't let your right hand ♪

♪ know what your left hand do ♪

♪ ♪

♪ I'm just trying to put your boots on you ♪

♪ and hip you, woman ♪

♪ 'cause that unseen eye is watching you ♪

♪ ♪

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