"Basically," House says, picking up his sandwich for a large bite. He mostly chews the food before speaking, but only mostly. "I'm a genius. An evil genius. I have the best patients in the world. They don't argue, they can't get up and go anywhere, they can't tattle on me to my boss, and I never have to worry about whether or not insurance is going to cover anaesthesia or therapy, because dead people don't have feelings. Of any kind. Basically the only thing they can still do is smell funny and lie. And that just means it's still interesting."

He smiles, a little too ebullient. It isn't all he has to say on the subject, but it's enough to distract from what he hasn't.