(mgv) house's leg acting up but he's also in heat and nesting so he's at the height of stupid hindbrain takeover on top of being in pain, and all he can manage to get out are pathetic keening calls and whines.
and he's alone.
he's alone, and he is so fucking stupid for thinking he can make it through this by himself. but the thought of employing a worker this time didn't sound appealing, and the only alpha he trusts to help him through this is married, and he thought he'd be civil and not bother them for once, and he is so fucking stupid.
with shaking hands he only manages to call wilson because he's on speed dial. it's the dead of night so when wilson answers, his exasperated sigh is undercut with a drowsy rumble. it's the best thing house ever heard. he doesn't even remember what excuse he gave his wife, too wrapped up in how every nerve was screaming at him, but the next thing he knows is wilson rushing in so quick the bedroom door slams against the wall.
One place where New Vegas really dropped the ball tbh was by not having any analog to Stations Casinos. They're a very vital part of the city's beating heart.
honestly all that stuff about lu guang being suicidal. like yeah. boy doesn't have anything left from his old life. didnt try to keep anything. everything's just... hyperfocused on cxs
if he loses cxs, there's no tether left for him, and he's almost just done with this
no one knows how to retreat from their worldly body on screen better than olivia cooke and i mean that. she booked thoroughbreds by walking into that audition room and dissociating. her entire acting catalogue is just ambiguous disorders 1 through 587. you put her in front of a camera and within 5 minutes she will have entered a fugue state. and you know what? i eat that shit up every single time