With her slender body leaning over his, Cameron couldn't help but inhale the intoxicating scent of Gregory House.

Her slender fingers could have easily slipped over the smooth surface of the office white envelope but unconsciously, she extended the reach, allowing the man's smell to fill her nose.

In her most private of thoughts, Allison had often speculated over whether or not the man wore cologne. Based on his choice of clothing and music, she had come to the conclusion that he must. Despite his curmudgeonly demeanor, there was a hip-ness to the man that not even Foreman could deny.

But stretching over him, she realized that she had been wrong.

And the tiny flutter in the pit of her stomach told her exactly how happy she was about being wrong.

As the tips of her slender fingers fiddled needlessly with the corner of the envelope, her senses were bombarded with a million different aromas.

The first to battle its way to the forefront was cinnamon. The spice tickled her nose, making her smile a bit. She couldn't help but think that it was a lingering treat from his breakfast with Wilson.

Though the tasty treat tickled her taste buds, something more distinct caught her breath. Slipping her finger around the edge of the paper, the warm smell of a fire place furled in the space between herself and House.

In her minds eye, she found a mental picture of the man stoking the fireplace in his apartment. One leg bent perfectly while the other stuck out at an uncomfortable angle. His cane was propped against a small table that held a small glass of scotch and some tattered book. The tiny wooden masterpiece was placed next to a brown leather couch that was fashionably worn with age.

All at once her senses were met with a barrage of smells… and glimpses into his life. For some reason that was a faint whiff of mint, but she didn't know why. The smell of hospital soap was much more obvious. The faint of Scotch didn't surprise her either. And though she certainly didn't approve, it was so very him, that at that moment, she couldn't be angry.

There were other smells as well.

Less obvious.

Less physical.

Finally wrapping her fingers around the thin sides of the envelope, she felt herself sinking into a world that smelled of sadness and pain. Their scents were particularly pungent and caused the tiny smile that had been made of cinnamon and firewood to fade to nothingness.

Wrapped up in House's world of Vicodin and pain, the young woman finally understood.

Understood why she had pushed him away and why he would continue to do so for who knew how long.

Mixed with all of the other smells she found the very worst thing of all. It was such a tiny scent. One so very allusive that all others had missed it because, they were so caught up with the cinnamon and pain.

It was the twisting, curling scent of a broken heart.

So very poignant, few could disguise it as well as the man before her.

Unable to stand the pain any longer, Allison pulled back, the envelope in hand. Turning back to the conference table she blinked back a tear while committing to memory each and every scent of Gregory House.

Cillian Chase's Chart

- Katie, thank you so much. For all of your help and support. You're amazing. :duck: