Grand Hotel.
Front Entrance.
"Why can't we have it all?"
Adam flashed a smile. "My goal's actually to cover 100% of the patient population. Otherwise, I wouldn't have bothered with tonight's gathering."
"Come on!"
Dr. House shot him a look. "We're not kids anymore. In the adult world, you've gotta learn to pick and choose."
"We can go all in," Adam countered.
"Yeah, sure—for all your girlfriends, right?" House smirked. "Energy's finite, buddy. Spread it across your harem, and there's less for the patients. Covering 100% of them? Dream on."
"It's about optimizing genetics—working toward humanity's future evolution. Still beats you corrupting ambitious college girls," Adam fired back. "Plus, my energy? Pretty much limitless."
"Wow, confident much?" House grinned. "I chat with those college girls I 'donate' to all the time. They tell me lots of donors love saying that. Guess what they think? A little chuckle in their heads: 'Heh, men!'"
He kept going, "And by your logic, I'm also helping humanity's future—funding girls who can't afford school. That's boosting overall civilization, isn't it?"
"Boosting it toward an AIDS epidemic, maybe?" Adam quipped. "You know us doctors are at risk, right? Especially a guy like you, 'donating' to random coeds every day."
"I'm a pro at this," House said, unfazed. "I stick to targeted, specific donations. My odds of catching something are about the same as yours."
"Did your math teacher double as your gym coach?" Adam's expression turned icy. "Or have you fried your brain watching trashy soap operas during work hours—hours you should be saving lives with? That time could've saved countless people, some of whom might've outdone your so-called 'contributions' to human evolution."
"Maybe, maybe not. It's all Schrödinger's cat territory," House shrugged. "Instead of betting on vague what-ifs, I trust myself. You see me wasting time on soaps; I see it as unwinding my brain, making room for creativity and inspiration."
"Then your inspiration-to-results ratio is pathetically low," Adam said, shaking his head. "If that's the case, ditch chasing 'inspiration' altogether. Just focus on saving lives and let the ideas come naturally. Better for everyone that way."
"With such a 'low ratio,' why'd you even invite me?" House grinned. "Unless… you've got a thing for my mom? Since you're so obsessed with me, you probably know my dad and I are like oil and water. If you're serious about her, hey, I'll cheer you on!"
"Enough!" Adam frowned. "They're still your parents. Show some respect."
"Relax," House said with a self-mocking chuckle. "Guess you don't know me as well as you think, or you wouldn't be so worked up."
"I'm not worked up," Adam shot back with a cold laugh. "This is just someone who values family looking down on someone who doesn't—someone who can't even muster basic respect. I get what you're hinting at. That's why I said 'your dad' instead of 'your father.' But that's no excuse for running your mouth like this."
"You get it?" House looked genuinely surprised this time.
"I've seen your dad's picture," Adam nodded. "Your genetic info doesn't add up."
"Ha! You're something else. We've got more in common than I thought," House said, his expression shifting from delight to something more complicated. "Dad's not 'Father.' I figured that out when I was 12."
"Doesn't matter," Adam said, locking eyes with him. "A father gives you life; a dad raises you. The raising outweighs the giving. Even if you two clashed, you shouldn't brush off that effort entirely. And whatever your dad's done, your mom's still your birth mother—and she loves you. You shouldn't joke about stuff like this."
"I'm not joking," House shook his head. "I was born, so clearly my mom wasn't some paragon of fidelity. Hormones, you know? I get it. With your charm, she'd totally go for you. And you? As long as the looks are there, age doesn't matter. I don't think my mom's much worse than Nora Bing. And seeing how much you care about Nora's son, Chandler—plus how well we vibe—I think I'd get along great with you as my 'stepdad.' It's all perfect!"
He tilted his head and glanced at Adam. "Yeah, I did my homework too. Easy stuff to dig up. You didn't forget you took Nora Bing to Columbia's welcome ball, right? Oh, and get this—four years ago, on a flight to London to see Stacy, I sat next to this loud, awful woman… your good pal Rachel. See? We're practically destined!"
"House, you're crossing a line," Adam said, stone-faced.
"No, you're crossing one," House laughed. "I'm just stating facts."
"I haven't crossed anything," Adam replied coolly. "I met her first, didn't know who she was back then. Once I found out, I cut ties immediately. I've never betrayed a friend. If you really dug into Rachel's side, you'd know I'm all about principles."
"True," House nodded. "But that doesn't explain the weird vibe with you and Chandler. You care about him way more than your other friends, don't you? That subconscious favoritism—isn't that crossing a line too?"
Adam froze for a sec, took a deep breath, and stared at House. "Is this a threat?"
"Nah, of course not!" House grinned. "We're just roasting each other, right? It's fun!"
"Poking at past hurts is fair game for roasting. Hinting at hurts that haven't happened? That's a threat," Adam said, glaring at him, each word deliberate. "You've talked to Rachel. You know how much I value friendship. If your 'roasting' leaks out, even if Chandler forgives me 100% later, it'll still mess with him emotionally. That's something I won't tolerate. So you casually throwing this around like it's a joke? To me, it's not roasting—it's a flat-out threat!"
"Oh, I see," House said, locking eyes with Adam for a moment before smirking. "So how do you deal with threats?"