House was good with his hands. All the things that came along with it. Medicine. Lovemaking. Arts and crafts. Piano.

Making a rat's cage bigger. A little mesh wire, a little prodding of Edward, and some time with the tools later, the cage had doubled in size and took up most of the coffee table. IT's not like it was getting used, so why not? Steve was happily roaming the extra space, investigating the levels put in, and generally being happy as a rat could be.

House, on the other hand, was on the couch, an arm flopped over his face. Napping was good. Tris was in trouble with Simon, Steve had a new cage, and he couldn't do anything till Faye was back from the mall. So, here he napped. Good a time as any.

Calm had returned to the hive, and a man watched a vampire sleep the sleep of the peaceful, the serene, the totally doped.

If he hadn't had a Magog escort, he would have staked the monsterous little thing where he lay, and been done with it. What did it matter? But then he watched the nurse skulk around the edge of the corner of the hive he'd been given, and remembered. There was her life, and all the others he could -- make easier, make better.

Too bad that'd never really been his calling. He didn't enjoy it then, and he enjoyede it even less now.

So he sat in his chair, and tried not to think about the last time they'd let him have a vicodin.

It was a long, unhappy time between doses, and for the first time in his life, he said to himself, Wilson was right.

He was going to hit him right in the cock if he ever saw him again, just for being right.