And you're sure he didn't leave until after 9:00?
Absolutely. We watched
the Devils demolish the Rangers.
The game started at 7:00.
Neither of you stepped out between periods, get beer,
pick up a pizza? - We stayed at my place.
We were together the whole time.
And you said the Devils won? - Yup. 4-zip.
Kovalchuk had two, Arnott and Parise each had one,
and Marty got the shutout.
I'm sorry. Marty?
Martin Brodeur.
Devils' starting goalie for, like, the past 20 years.
He played awesome as usual.
Your Honor, may I submit the sports page
from the New Jersey Chronicle on October 9th, 2011.
Objection. Relevance.
Goes to the witness's credibility.
Go quickly.
Would you please read the caption under the photo?
"Martin Brodeur stops 1
of his 36 saves on the way to a shutout victory."
That's what I just said.
That the defendant couldn't have possibly committed the robbery
because he was with you
watching Martin Brodeur shut out the Rangers.
Yes.
Thank you.
Your Honor, may I submit the Chronicle sports page
from October 10th?
Your Honor.
This is what you call going quickly?
Just two more questions. I promise.
Please read the highlighted text at the bottom of the page.
"In Sunday's sports section,
New Jersey Devils goaltender Johan Hedberg was..."
That's it. Keep going.
"Misidentified as Martin Brodeur
in a photo caption and box score."
An understandable mistake.
Given that Martin Brodeur was scheduled to start
Which brings me to my most relevant question.
Did you and the defendant spend the evening of October 8th
watching the Devils game on TV,
or did you just read about the game in the Chronicle
while concocting this false alibi?
Um...
I... I, um...
Excuse me, Your Honor,
may I approach?
You sure you don't want to wait
till after he answers your question?
No.
I'm gonna need a continuance.
Now?
You're one answer away from destroying
their whole defense.
- Come on. - Oh, shut up.
You know it's true.
- Let's finish this up. - I can't.
Why the hell not?
Because I think I'm having a heart attack.
Great. Call an ambulance.
== sync, corrected by elderman ==
Thinks he had a heart attack but didn't.
His EKG, cardiac enzymes, and catheterization
are all normal.
'Cause it's an anxiety attack.
Probably because he just turned 40
and still goes by the name "Tommy".
It's not anxiety.
The E.R. Docs interviewed his wife.
She confirmed he's been feeling fine.
Nothing out of the ordinary
at work or at home.
Probably also believes that he thinks
Salma Hayek's breasts are too big.
Which is why I had them admit him anyway
and treat with alprazolam.
No improvements.
Because... Because for some patients
the diagnosis of anxiety disorder
can actually increase anxiety,
which is also why I told him
he had a minor respiratory infection
that was easily curable by the medication.
You lied?
I ruled out heart attack and anxiety disorder.
Interesting.
I know.
Impressive.
What, the wiliness
with which Foreman ruled out anxiety
or his complete wiliness-less-ness
before he met me?
The fact that you managed
to smear jelly
on nearly every page.
Shingles could cause chest pain before a rash appeared.
Pain would be restricted to one dermatome.
It wouldn't cross them.
Asthma-induced pneumothorax would
and might not show up on a posteroanterior X-ray.
No history of asthma.
They did a lateral view as well.
No sign of a pneumothorax
or deep sulcus sign.
I treated an inmate once with similar symptoms
after he tried to poison his cellmate with chlorine gas.
He didn't realize sharing a cell also meant sharing the air?
Chlorine gas pools near the ground
he thought he'd be safe in the top bunk.
Well, why would anyone try to poison our guy?
He makes a living
sending people to prison.
But he's not in prison, and it's kind of hard
to gas a guy unless you can seal him in a room first.
Which is why Archaeus created a universe
with 3 states of matter
and 300 solid or liquid poisons
that could cause his symptoms.
Arceus?
Look it up. And alkalinize his urine.
Go search his home, talk to his wife,
see if you can get her to tell us what she used.
Wait, why would you think his wife poisoned him?
Because dangerous people don't break into your home,
they live in it.
And although his kids are old enough
to want daddy dead, they're still to young
to do anything about it.
Must be such a pleasure
to live in your head.
You're right.
Kids might be precocious.
You handle his house.
You handle him and his wife.
They get to just hang out and do nothing?
If you need help, you can take whoever you want.
- I'll take Taub. - I'll take Taub.
Interesting. No, it's not.
It was a 50/50 choice.
I'm totally fine with Taub or Park.
Cool. I'll take Taub.
And I'll take Park.
That was fun.
Not really.
Nice move, boss.
Lying to the patient.
I had no choice.
I knew House wouldn't take the case
unless I ruled out anxiety.
You need a girlfriend.
To keep me from lying to patients?
To give you the excitement you need
so you don't go looking for it.
You're not working for House anymore,
which means you no longer have him
to blame if you get caught.
I'm not looking for excitement.
I'm doing my job, part of which
is to make sure House does his.
Girlfriend might not be so bad.
It's less dangerous than where you're headed.
And that's from a guy with one alimony
and two child support payments.
It's this new curve control thing.
It automatically slows the car
when it senses I'm taking a curve too fast.
You really think I care about your car?
Or are you just trying to avoid talking
about why you don't like working with me?
There's nothing to talk about.
House liked poking ant hills
with a stick when he was a kid,
and now he wants to do the same with us.
House is an ass, but he's an intuitive ass.
He obviously noticed something.
Yeah, the fact that we work well together.
He thrives on conflict and is looking for someone to torment.
Don't let it be us.
I don't see how that's possible.
Tommy's the most popular guy in his office.
He's even had defendants thank him
after they were sentenced. Why would they thank him?
Because he doesn't treat them like scum.
He makes them feel like he's helping
by offering a plea or even just by letting them
pay their debt and clear their conscience.
And even if someone wanted to poison him,
I don't see how they would do it.
He never eats or drinks anything that we haven't made at home.
Wait. You mean literally?
Like, not even a bottle of water?
No.
So he was obviously afraid of something.
Yeah, rats, mice, cockroaches.
My first job out of law school
was at the health department.
If you'd have seen some of the kitchens
or the processing plants I have,
you'd cook all your own food too.
Poison wouldn't have to be in food.
Have you gotten any strange letters
or packages recently?
No.
You also wouldn't have to be at work.
We've got two young kids.
There's definitely no poisons
I could have accidentally been exposed to at home.
What if it wasn't an accident?
How are things between you and your wife?
Are you asking me if I think
my wife is trying to kill me?
Yes, I am.
Absolutely not.
This is coming from a man
whose eyes are wide open.
I have prosecuted hundreds of despicable acts
by husbands, wives,
parents.
I can assure you...
I love my husband,
and I would not ever even for a second
consider doing anything to hurt him.
No pesticides,
fertilizers, or fuel in the garage.
You find anything?
No, there's not even a bottle
of wite-out in this place.
Maybe we should look again.
Maybe we should leave before the police get here.
Well, even if a neighbor saw us break in
and called 911, unless they said we were armed,
it's low priority. We've got another five minutes.
He's a prosecutor.
Obviously he knows a lot of cops.
His house is not gonna be low priority.
Good point.
Wait.
The dining room's on the other side of that wall.
Yeah, so?
But it ends, like, three feet further over.
You've got to be kidding me.
A second ago, you wanted to run like hell,
and now you want to look for secret passages?
There's a magnet on the fridge
they use to open child-proofed cabinets.
Go get it.
Hurry up.
Here.
Holy crap.
Don't tell me.
The jealous wife in the dining room
with bipyridyl herbicide.
We didn't find any poisons.
Well, you obviously found something.
Yeah.
A hidden bunker with enough guns to defend Fort Knox.
Or break into it.
Cool.
That's impossible. You must have broken into the wrong house.
Then you have creepy neighbors,
because there were photos of you and your kids all over.
I don't understand.
How could this...
I had it put in during the remodel last year.
But we went over the plans together.
It's not in the plans.
I didn't want the city to know about it.
I'm sorry.
I should have told you.
I just...
I didn't want you and the kids to worry.
About what?
Tommy, what is it? Why would you think
you needed so many guns?
You're not gonna believe this.
Imperio absenti chaos regit.
He's worried that "too big to fail" applies to our banks
but not our government.
How'd you know?
Because that's what every idiot with a bunker
full of assault rifles is scared of.
Heather Sweeney.
Uh, it'll just be a couple of minutes
till someone's ready to see you.
Maybe it's not stupidity. It's a symptom.
Cocaine abuse can cause paranoia and chest pain.
This isn't necessarily paranoia.
Societies do fall apart.
Look what happened with London and the riots.
There's a difference between an isolated riot
and the fall of civilization.
April Donaldson.
Sorry. Misspoke.
Imagine what would happen if there was
a terrorist attack on the food supply
or a pandemic where we had to ration antibiotics.
- That's ridiculous. - Ouch.
Oh, shut up.
We know what you're trying to do, and it's not gonna work.
It was a little harsh.
Stop being so... What? Paranoid?
You're gonna look pretty foolish if that was the wrong guess.
I think you're a good person and a fine doctor,
but it's ridiculous to think anyone needs
an arsenal of assault weapons.
He's obviously paranoid. What about Fahr's disease?
He's not hallucinating. As far as we know.
We should do a mental status examination
and get a CT of his basel ganglia.
No, we shouldn't.
If it's not poison, it's most likely atrial fibrillation
brought on by hyperthyroidism or sleep apnea.
Looks like we got ourselves a good, ol'-fashioned cat fight.
No, we don't.
We have a reasoned disagreement.
Still there's only one way to settle this.
Actually there's two,
but we don't have enough jell-o for the first.
Mini-mental,
CT, and get a hair sample
to check for past cocaine use.
Check his TSH levels and get a sleep study.
Sorry, we got to make it a fair fight,
which means you're stuck with her.
He's not "stuck" with me.
And it's not a fight.
Uh, excuse me, miss,
what is your name?
Mariel Wilkerson.
Huh.
You don't look like a Mariel.
You're up.
So what do you think— is the patient paranoid or am I?
I don't think stockpiling weapons
is the most reasoned response,
but, given what I've seen at Bloomingdale's
on Black Friday,
I wouldn't say it rises to the level of mental illness.
And me?
Again, given what I've seen at Bloomingdale's...
Don't let House get to you.
It's all of you.
I feel like you don't respect me.
Chase certainly doesn't try to hide it.
Chase respects you. He's just more comfortable
working with me because he's known me longer.
And I'm not just saying that because you own a gun.
I don't own a gun.
I've thought about it, but I'd probably end up shooting
someone in my own family, like when my brother
tosses his toenail clippings behind the couch.
What about you?
If anarchy breaks out,
I plan to do what my ancestors have done
throughout the ages—run.
Sounds like a good plan.
You got a moment?
Stop telling the nurses I'm looking for a girlfriend.
What makes you—
Two lunch offers and a box of cupcakes
since this morning.
So a few people are nice to you,
and your first thought is, "Hmm, this seems strange"?
I haven't even had enough time to eat my own lunch,
much less run around trying to recruit nurses for yours.
So can I get back to work?
You're lying, aren't you?
It's for his own good.
He's not paranoid. He's just stupid.
Well, shouldn't you put yourself in that group?
You own a gun.
Our patient doesn't own a gun. He owns an arsenal.
And I don't own a gun.
Yes, you do.
And you're a felon, so you'll end up back in jail—
That is actually not one of the many reasons
that I don't own a gun.
Why would I need a gun?
The only thing I own worth protecting
a thief would need a crane to get out of my apartment.
You don't own anything you need.
You own things you want.
And you're definitely the type who'd want a gun.
You like anything dangerous—
monster trucks, motorcycles, fireworks.
Everyone loves fireworks.
Watching them, not making them.
I'm telling the truth.
I stand corrected.
If you believe me, then this issue will be resolved
with no further action necessary.
Absolutely.
It's not resolved, is it?
Not even close.
It's not cocaine.
Hair samples were clean.
It's not looking good for Fahr's either.
I'm not seeing any calcifications.
You sure?
They can be pretty hard to detect
in people under 50.
- See? - What?
We all disagree all the time.
It's not just me and Park.
Nice try,
but I'm not getting in the middle.
So why didn't you want to go with her this morning?
She's weird.
She's not weird. She's a good doctor.
Most good doctors are weird. Look at House.
Am I weird?
Yeah, but you're hot, so it's easier to put up with.
You're completely normal and a pleasure to deal with.
You're weird.
In a good way?
Maybe we should just concentrate on the medicine.
You own any guns?
That's not medicine.
But it's related to medicine. Kind of.
What do you think?
Yeah, but not for protection.
Despite what the media would have us believe,
you think we live in a very safe world.
You just think they're fun.
How did you know?
Working in prison, you learned criminals
rarely target random strangers,
and you've got more money than you know what to do with,
so anything that seems different and fun's worth trying.
And you?
Not here in the states.
Back home, I keep a few for hunting 'roos.
You hunt kangaroos?
But they're so cute.
They're also delicious.
You're screwing with me.
Totally.
There's no calcification.
Looks like we're both wrong.
You don't need to stay.
We won't have the results until the morning.
It's okay. I'll stay.
Go.
I'm sure your mother's ready for a break by now, huh?
Give the kids a kiss for me.
You think it's the end of the world, but you wanted kids.
Oh, honey, come on.
I don't think the world's coming to an end.
Look...
You have a spare tire in your car, right?
That's what those guns are.
I mean, I hope to God I never have to use one.
But if we can wake up
and learn that the entire bank system
has gone bankrupt overnight,
it just seems stupid not to have a jack in the trunk.
Just in case.
And you've always—
What's that from?
I don't know.
You don't feel that?
No.
He also spiked a fever overnight.
It could be TB.
You want to say it.
- Say what? - There's no sign of atelectasis
or infiltrates on the chest X-ray.
Yeah. It's med-speak for she's an idiot.
Systemic sclerosis can cause lower extremity ulcers.
It would have to be pretty far along
because the first symptom was just a few days ago.
His paranoia started at least a year ago.
If he's paranoid.
So it's either not sclerosis
or it's extremely aggressive sclerosis.
We should biopsy the skin lesion and start him on enoxaparin.
Shouldn't we wait for the biopsy results
before we start treatment?
Now's your chance.
She's leading with her chin.
I agree with her.
No, you don't.
Which means you're both idiots.
Get to work.
I know you don't think I'm an idiot.
Does it matter?
If you're just looking to amuse yourself
at my expense, then no.
But if you feel the need to manipulate me
to make me feel useful, then yes.
I thought we'd gotten past that.
If we hadn't gotten past that, you wouldn't be here.
But ability isn't always enough.
Just ask Yngwie Malmsteen.
So this is you trying to help me?
No, this is me helping me.
And amusing myself at your expense.
Which brings us back to, why do you care?
I deserve respect.
I'm a good doctor.
People respect you. They just don't like you.
Where's your wife?
She just needed some time.
Not a fan of guns I take it.
It's not the guns. It's...
I shouldn't have lied about it.
I'm guessing it's a little of both.
And a little of, "Who the hell is this guy?"
I'm not a nutcase.
I just want to do everything I can
to protect my family.
Don't worry. I'm sure she understands.
At first, I thought it might be frostbite,
but I haven't really been out in the cold.
And yet your first thought was frostbite?
Yeah, I guess I was just going by how it looks.
It looks absolutely nothing like frostbite.
You serious?
With some difficulty.
Then what is it?
A sign that you need to take a long vacation.
At least a month.
A vacation?
Wait, is this like a bucket list thing?
It's cancer.
It's silver.
I'm guessing
silver nitrate mixed with petroleum jelly
that your boss put on the petty cash
so he'd know who to have arrested for stealing it.
Damn.
Yeah, damn.
It's diffused into your skin,
and the only way to get rid of it
is to get new skin.
That normally happens every 30 days.
So I hear that La Crosse, Wisconsin has got
the world's largest beer can.
Here's the per diem schedules.
These are supposed to be in the computer files.
Sorry. Since Claudine left,
no one's been inputting the numbers.
I miss Claudine.
She left because of you.
I thought that was Nadine.
- Her too. - Where are you going?
You still have an hour left.
Emergency page takes precedence.
- Can you— - I don't know how to use the program.
Then find someone who does.
I got to get out of here.
Got your page.
You're an ass.
Admit it.
Let me down.
After you admit it.
You know, I'm a little tired.
I think I'm gonna— all right, I admit it.
Despite the fact that I know
there's a gun in here, I'd never find it
because you are more devious—
- Clever. - Devious.
All right, fine, clever.
More clever and you'll always be one step ahead of me.
You're either preparing to fight Pacquiao
or you're having one heck of a bad day.
- I'm Anita. - Eric.
Nice to meet you.
And you can tell Taub
that he's gonna get the same treatment
as this heavy bag if he doesn't cut this crap out.
Who's Taub?
You know, I'm sure you're a nice person
and you have no idea what you've gotten sucked into,
but, really, I'm not interested.
Okay, and I'm sure you're a nice person,
but I just moved from Atlanta,
and it's my first time at this gym,
so definitely don't know who this Taub guy is,
but I already agree. He's a jerk.
Are you sure you don't want to start over?
Take your time.
I'll be around.
Taub, it's Foreman.
Hey, can't talk now. Little busy.
What's going on?
Need some droperidol in here!
I gotta go!
He was hallucinating he was being attacked by bears.
Points again to paranoia.
I agree.
Except for the "again".
Acute onset points to tularemia.
Or it's been chronic, which points to GAD autoimmunity.
Explains the neurological impairment
as well as the normal blood work.
Tularemia doesn't always show up
in blood work either.
You know what else
doesn't show up in the blood work?
Nothing.
This could be all psychiatric.
An untreated schizoid disorder
he's finally lost the ability to suppress.
Schizophrenia doesn't cause skin ulcers or fevers.
No, but digging delusions out of your skin
with dirty fingernails could cause both.
I don't think he's a psych case.
Because you're paranoid about paranoia.
Because his symptoms
point towards an infection
that spread to his brain.
I think we should treat with high-dose, broad-spectrum—
which will kill him if it's a GAD autoimmunity.
Treat for GAD.
Corticosteroids and IV immunoglobulin.
I'm not paranoid.
And they don't dislike me.
They don't even really know me.
They tell you that?
I didn't ask because you wouldn't believe the answer.
If it makes you feel better to think that.
You're the one everyone dislikes.
You probably don't even think it's GAD.
You're just agreeing with her because you think
it'll create more conflict between us.
There's only one way to find out.
Actually, there's two.
We're still waiting for that jell-o delivery.
Let me know how it goes.
Gotcha!
You poor dumb bastard.
Touche.
Mm.
God, this is exactly what I needed.
Tell me about it.
Anita.
Oh, my God. Who is that, your roommate?
It's just you have to go.
Wait a minute, what's the big deal?
Please. I'll explain later.
Just hurry up. Please.
You have a boyfriend?
No, he's not my boyfriend.
He's my husband.
I'm really sorry.
Hey! I thought you weren't getting back till tomorrow.
His fever's going through the roof,
which means we were wrong about GAD
and the steroids kicked the infection into high gear.
Or it's GAD, and we started treatment too late.
- Increase the steroid dose. - We can't.
If it's an infection, we'll kill him for sure.
With neurological symptoms progressing this fast,
he's dead either way.
If we increase the steroids,
then either death comes slower,
which means we were too late with the GAD,
or death comes faster,
which means we were too stupid with the infection.
We were already stupid with the infection,
but it's not too late.
He's young, and he was perfectly healthy two days ago.
He can fight this off if we give him a chance.
Fine.
But a shotgun is not gonna work.
We need a sniper rifle.
Start running DNA assays for sporotrichosis,
meningococcemia,
and any other boggle-winning words you can think of.
You just said you wanted to increase the steroids,
and now you want to just— - I changed my mind.
- But— Do what Park says.
Well, you don't have a gun,
but you do have my sunglasses,
my tennis racket— I can't imagine why—
Had to kill a mouse.
It was really hard with those stupid little sunglasses.
And my money clip.
Was there any money in it?
Not anymore.
Can I go to bed now?
Or do you want to do a cavity search?
Lock up on your way out.
This is ridiculous.
Every moment we waste looking for a phantom infection
is time we could be treating him.
For the wrong diagnosis.
If it was GAD, he'd be having seizures.
If it was infection,
there would be some sign of it
in his blood or CNS.
- Which there isn't. - Yet.
I'm beginning to think we should just go with House's idea.
This was House's idea. He said—
no, I'm talking about the jell-o.
At least it wouldn't be so annoying to watch.
Taub, you got a minute?
You're an ass. You know that?
What's the problem?
Some cute young nurse baked you cookies?
No, some guy almost caught me making out with his wife
in their living room.
And how exactly is that my fault?
If you hadn't been screwing with me
and put the idea in my head...
So you don't date anyone unless I put the idea
in your head.
You really do need psychiatric help.
Unlike you,
I don't need drama.
I like my job,
and I'm happy with my life.
You're so happy with your life
you've got nothing better to do at midnight
than to come back into work to yell at me?
Stay out of my business.
You're blaming the wrong guy.
Good for him.
Married one's not a keeper, but it's a start.
You're an idiot.
He has stridor but no obstruction.
He's anaphylaxing. Get me a trach kit.
Scalpel.
It's not working. There's no breath sounds.
It doesn't make any sense.
His trachea's blocked below the incision point.
We need racemic epinephrine. We tried that already.
We're gonna try again.
It's our only choice.
We got him breathing, but barely.
At least we know tracheal edema
isn't from anything we did
because we're not doing anything.
Which is a good thing, because neither GAD
nor systemic infection would cause anaphylaxis
or tracheal edema.
And an allergic reaction
wouldn't get worse three days after he was admitted.
So we've got nothing.
Unless he was still being poisoned.
By who?
His wife wasn't even here
when he hallucinated.
Good question.
Now we're the ones being paranoid.
What about squamous cell carcinoma?
If it's only in his epithelium,
it wouldn't show up in his chest X-ray.
It is possible, but...
Wouldn't cause hallucinations.
It could if you also have paraneoplastic syndrome.
Get a biopsy.
You think it's cancer?
I think you should get a biopsy.
Admit it.
Two hours ago, I found this in your closet
in a box with your name on it.
I knew you'd move it somewhere outside your apartment
until you were certain I'd given up looking.
So I had to convince you that I'd given up looking.
That's not a gun.
Yes, it's a paperweight with a handy storage compartment
for.45-caliber bullets.
- And that's not a bullet. - Admit it.
I'm more clever and more devious.
You can even have it back.
It's not my problem if you go back to prison.
My problem is you thinking
you're always one step ahead of me.
This proves nothing because it's not a gun.
It's a prop.
From Dorothy Dietrich's magic act.
Look it up.
She's the only woman to ever do the "catch a bullet" trick.
I won this off her prop master
in a poker game.
House— it's fake.
It's plugged.
Look for yourself.
Hey, hey, don't point
that thing at me.
It's not dangerous because it's not a gun.
House, House, just stop it.
Fine.
What the hell are you doing?
Pull the trigger. Don't be insane.
They're blanks.
You pull the trigger,
I drool a little fake blood,
and then I spit out the bullet that the audience thinks
I caught in my teeth. Go ahead.
Shoot me.
I'm not shooting you.
All right. I'll shoot you.
Don't. House, don't.
Even if they are blanks, people'll freak.
It's not real.
Which means you didn't prove that I have a gun.
Which means you proved nothing.
Admit it.
- All right. - All right, what?
You win.
And it feels good.
Grr.
You were wrong.
Don't feel too bad.
We all were.
His trachea wasn't swollen.
It was blocked by a pseudomembrane
growing across it.
It means he's not paranoid, is an idiot,
and was poisoned.
What are you doing?
Give me a machida scope.
Hold his legs. He's not gonna like this.
Because you're not gonna be able to breathe.
But I need to see down your barrel.
The good news is the poison didn't come from your wife.
It came from a little bastard of a bacterium
whose crap can cause chest pain,
respiratory distress, skin ulcers,
the growth of pseudomembrane across the airway,
and, in very rare cases, hallucinations.
Call the CDC.
Tell them we need antitoxin as soon as possible.
Diphtheria?
We didn't guess it
because nobody gets it.
Instead of building bunkers,
you should be getting boosters.
As in routine vaccines against stuff that is actually scary.
Dr. Wills to recovery.
Diphtheria.
House pulled it out of nowhere.
Cool.
You just getting in?
Had a meeting about a new parking validation system.
Cool.
How are you feeling?
Not great.
But better.
The antitoxin is working.
He'll be able to go home in a few days.
That's good news.
But we've moved out.
Oh, come on, honey.
I'm sorry I lied, but—
I know, okay.
It was for our own good, but I don't care.
I don't want to be lied to,
and I can't live like that.
I can't live in that home.
Oh, please don't.
I love you.
I love you too.
Which is why you're not gonna live there either.
I don't care if we might need them.
I just know that I can't live my life
feeling like we do.
It's not worth living in fear.
Okay.
I'm sorry.
- Hey. - Hi.
Thanks.
You know, there's a bunch of us
going to happy hour after work.
I'm craving nachos.
You interested?
Thanks, but I got a lot of work
I need to get done.
Sure. Well, if you change your mind,
we'll be at Rudy's.
Okay.
- Hey. -Hey. - Hey.
Would you like to get a drink sometime after work?
You mean all of us or just us?
I was thinking just the two of us.
Did Taub put you up to this?
No, it was just something I'd been thinking about
and I figured, what the heck?
Might as well ask.
Yeah, well, it's probably not a good idea,
you know, with us working together.
Didn't you marry someone you used to work with?
Yeah. But...
All right. Sure.
When?
Tonight?
Sure.
Hey.
Changed my mind.
Okay.
I'm glad you changed your mind.
Hey.
== sync, corrected by elderman ==