i"She friended me a few weeks ago." Lockdown/i
"Don't tell me you're updating that thing."
Wilson knows it's useless, but pulls the laptop closer to himself anyway. "I'm not updating," he says, "I'm just ... responding."
"To who?" House moves in one swift motion, crossing the space between the two of them to take the laptop out of Wilson's hands.
"House, give it back."
House squints at the screen and ignores him. "'Not sure about the side effects on this new drug," he reads. "Is Dr. Wilson out there?'" He looks across the table at Wilson. "Seriously? You're doing consults on Facebook now?"
"It's not a consult. All I was going to do was advise him to contact my office in the morning." Wilson yanks the laptop away from House.
"I told you this was going to happen."
"No, you said, and I quote, 'You're going to end up sucked in to some Ponzi scheme within the first ten days.' This is not a Ponzi scheme."
"It hasn't been ten days yet. Besides, you're the one who said, and I quote: 'I'm only getting an account because one kid asked me to. I'll say hello to him and walk away.' " House cranes his body forward to look down at Wilson's feet. "Those don't look like walking shoes."
Wilson shakes his head. He really had intended to just set up the account and then leave. He was just going to pop in, type up a quick greeting to his 13-year-old Burkitt's patient, and never return. But the next time he turned on the computer, he logged in to look for a reply, only to discover another two current patients and three former patients had found his name. Andie's mother found him two days after that.
He's gotten into the habit of checking in since then. Now he angles the screen away from House and House leans to one side of his chair, pretending he's not trying to read the reflection in the window behind Wilson's back.
"I'm just being polite," Wilson says. "What am I supposed to do, ignore them?"
"Yes. It's easy." House reaches forward again, but doesn't grab the laptop this time. Instead he slams it shut. "See?"
iThree weeks later./i
"House, you hacked my account!"
"What makes you think it was me?"
Wilson turns the screen toward House, his profile page now filled with shots from "Feral Pleasures."
"Could have been a fan," House says.
Wilson just stares at him.
"Hey, if you don't want people to screw with your stuff, you should come up with better passwords."
"I thought I had."
"Amber's birthdate? Your Mom's maiden name? Your go-to chemo drug?" House numbers off the three most recent passwords Wilson has used. "Don't insult me," he adds.
Wilson hunches forward and pulls up the security settings. He makes sure House is nowhere nearby before he punches in a new code, then starts deleting every photo on his page.