Straight through, little delay. Of course, he’d gunned it every chance he got.
House considered driving right by the glaring blue, happily boxed handicapped spaces. But then the crammed parking garage crawled into view. Time to go home already? My, it does fly when you’re having fun.
He had to reach over the hand controls (which he rarely used) sticking out of his car's scruffy interior and shuffled crap in the glove box five full minutes before he could find the tag for its mirror. If the cane was too subtle, he’d always have the big sign plastered on his windshield.
The seminar itself proved mildly enlightening, though he wouldn’t go so far with the company; lazy wannabe cops, at best. The most he’d glean from these morons was where to get a cheap cup of coffee. He mostly tried to blend in, genuinely unenthusiastic to meet any conversation. As much as he’d adore a good shot of caffeine just now.
House remained seated as the crowd began to rise and thin, content to wait until he could stand without drawing more attention than was absolutely necessary. Funny how some people needed to stare; the leg was a goddamn aphrodisiac for ignorant curiosity. He spun the head of his cane around in his palm before leaning hard into it and hopping to his feet. The chair slid back with a short squeal.
[ Open to Sharona ]