"That's my philosophy, to say the least," Wilson shrugged, placing his hands on his hips in that "I'm so totally not gay, girlfriend" stance he's mastered over the years. Grunting in his general direction, I looked up from my PSP.

"I'm sorry, were you talking? I swear, I thought I heard you ululating, then I realized that no, that couldn't possibly be so," I spat, tossing the game into a drawer and standing to leave. Rounding the desk, I walked towards the door where Wilson was still planted, now beginning to resemble RuPaul, minus the bad wig.

"I know you were listening. Your eyebrows flickered," he countered, unmoving. I laughed throatily, throwing my head back for effect.

"No, really, I wasn't. Here, I'll tell you what: the next time I come into your office right before you leave and badger you with something totally unimportant, you can ignore me too, okay?" I said, reaching for the door handle as RuWilson took a step to the left, blocking my exit. I was momentarily peeved until I realized that I had another exit a mere five feet to my left. "Toodles," I chirped, turning on the spot and exiting through the office. Escaping down the hallway, I was surprised, pleasantly, that Wilson hadn't chosen to follow me.

Stepping out into the muggy September air, I spied Wilson perched on my bike, coat on and briefcase in hand.

"Hey, get down!" I called, crossing the courtyard as quickly as possible. Sliding off the bike, Wilson stayed at its side until I reached them. "You know, I could have you arrested for harassment."

"Why, because I can get down stairs faster than you can the elevator?

"No, because you're harassing me, duh."

"Look, just stop, okay? I know you heard what I said in there and I know you're thinking about it, so will you just stop?" Wilson asked, his face lined with irritation. Sighing, I mounted my bike and handed Wilson my cane.

"Take care of her, okay?" I said, my voice sarcastically sincere as I kick started my bike.

"I love you. Is it that big a deal?"

Killing the motor, I climbed off the bike and shushed Wilson. "God, someone might hear you," I moaned.

"So? It's not like it's a secret anymore."

"No, but someone might think you're one of the psyche escapees. I think that 'loving Greg House' fits the parameters of psychosis," I whispered conspiratorially. Wilson smiled slightly.

"Then call me crazy," he grinned, handing me my cane. "Let's take my car." Staring at him for a long moment, I scowled.

"No way am I cramping my style with the Volvo. Get on," I said, sliding my cane in the holster and handing Wilson my helmet.

"Yeah, cause the babes love the cane."

"I haven't agreed to anything, you know?" I said as Wilson slid onto the back and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I know. You being unable to commit is a big part of my philosophy." Straining, I turned over my shoulder.

"What was that philosophy again?"

"That you're just miserable enough to fall in love."

"You're an idiot."

"That's the other part of my thinking."