James E. Wilson (oncologist) wrote in plainsboro,
James E. Wilson

Date/Time: Wednesday, around 7:30pm.
Location: Blue Point Grill.
Open To: Stacy.
Currently Involving: Wilson.
Warnings: Nothing.

Escaping work Wednesday night was like something out of a James Bond film and probably all entirely unnecessary. Wilson wasn’t taking any chances. It was with a guilty conscience that he looked around corners before turning them, hoping to avoid running into House at all costs. The diagnostician had a professional talent for figuring things out based on the slightest detail and Wilson wasn’t 100% confident something as unassuming as the pattern of his tie wasn’t shouting his plans with Stacy out loud to an observant onlooker. This meant taking the stairs and avoiding the nurse at the front desk which he normally said hi too. It was a real undercover operation.

The rest of Wilson’s journey was even less exciting. From the moment he reached his Volvo, it was a safe trip to the Blue Point Grill. It was a bit of a drive from the hospital and that happened to be among the short list of reasons why he had suggested it in the first place. The further the distance, the less likely the chance he was going to run into someone he knew and knew House in turn. In the past, it’d been a convenient place for taking women he was interested in when he preferred his advances to go uninterrupted. The quality of food was somewhere near the bottom of the list, but it was worth the drive.

He arrived before Stacy and had the waiter seat him at an open table within plain sight of the entrance. When Stacy showed up he’d be easy enough to find. Picking up the menu to glance over as he waited, Wilson tried not to give his mind over to the million questions he had concerning the reason for this dinner. He’d find out soon enough.
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.