House throws that little boy's rubber ball against a wall in a scene taken right out of The Great Escape, which is a great movie except for the Steve McQueen parts. I mean, I love the guy, but he didn't add much to that film except for that silly motorcycle chase and his infectious sense of bad-assity. We see that House is actually in an abandoned airport hallway, where, in his own bad-ass style, he's written a list of possible solutions to Fletch's garbled words on the wall in Stacy's makeup. Someone is going to really confused tomorrow when they see that graffiti. Or even tonight, since I doubt that airports, even ones with no outgoing flights for the night, just shut down and send all their employees and security guards home. Stacy walks up and takes a seat beside him, hoping for some hot airport hallway sex, but it ain't happening. She hands House his cell-phone charger, resigned to her sexless night.

House calls the Cottages on his newly-charged phone. They have come no closer to figuring out Fletch's stain and bear problems. Chase and Foreman are ready to give it up, but Cameron's still thinking, and finally, she figures out that Fletch only talks to them when his wife isn't around. Foreman and Chase are both disgusted with themselves for needing forty-nine minutes to come up with this crucial fact. Cameron figures that the more devoted you are to someone, the more reason you have to lie to protect them. House fights back tears of pride and says that their "little girl is growing up" and is as cynical as the rest of them. But how can they tear Wifey away from her husband's side?

Enter Cuddy, seriously pissed off that she's been taken away from the warmth and comfort of her bed to come to work and lie to Fletch's wife that there's some billing problem she needs her to sort out immediately. I'd be pissed too; since when does the Chief of Medicine get personally involved in billing errors, even if they are for famous patients? Cuddy asks what makes Foreman so much better than House, if they both need her to lie to patients and their families in order to perform their unorthodox yet life-saving procedures. "I brought you a coffee," Foreman says, rather sheepishly. Cuddy accepts it, but even she can't do a good job pretending that it has any actual liquid in it. Someone needs to found an acting school that only teaches its students how to pretend that their empty prop cups contain steaming hot liquid.