She is so mad.
She is so completely fucking mad.
Storming down the hall toward the office in question, she sheds her scrubs piece by piece, chucking them into trash cans and she moves. People are veering out of her way. If she was a cartoon character, she'd have steam coming out of her ears. And they can all tell just by looking that it's bad.
Finally she reaches the coupe of diagnostics offices, and sets her sights on the one in the center. The door is glass and reads "Dr. Gregory House, M.D. Diagnostics." She flings it open and storms into the little conference room, doesn't care about who is in there with him or what they're talking about. He gets his way, he always does and she's not playing that game.
"You cancelled my surgery? Are you kidding me? Who died and made you God of the OR, House? Because last I checked, you're not even a goddamn surgeon."
