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Gregory House was leaning back in his chair, one leg propped up on the table and head tipped back against the wall. The file with their assignment was splayed out in front of him.
“James Wilson, M2 at Columbia,” James said, reaching out for a handshake. “It’s great to meet you.”
“What, you’re gonna tell me the specialty you want and the next time you plan to have sex too?” House glanced at his hand, then at his face. “That was a joke. Don’t tell me, I don’t care.”