Wonderfully, we follow Wilson to the breast thing. He speedily tells the patient, a hot young thing with what are probably calcium deposits in her boobs, that he's having trouble getting his gloves on. "It's weird!" he says. He manages to get one on, deems this enough, and gets to work feeling the patient up. "You sure talk fast," she says. "You should see me when I'm busy!" Wilson says, winking and clicking his tongue at her. Oh dear. You know Wilson's mind is thinking way too fast, because he normally waits until AFTER the cancer diagnosis is confirmed before trying to sleep with his patients. The woman drops her arms into boob-covering position as Wilson hurriedly apologizes for being so inappropriate, saying he has no idea where that came from. He sits down and says he feels like his heart is about to explode. The woman wishes she had gone to St. Sebastian's instead of this crazy place. Wilson snatches her finger clip heart monitor thing and checks out his own heart rate. It's extremely high. Wilson panics, then realizes that white powder in his coffee wasn't Splenda after all. "Excuse me, I have to go kill someone," he tells the patient.
He no doubt sprints over to House's apartment and accuses House of "dosing" him. House admits that he did, but that's what Wilson gets for not trusting him with why he was really yawning. Wilson screams that House could have killed him. House shrugs that if anything happened to Wilson's heart, he was already in the best place for it. Except for the fact that all the heart attack stuff was stuck in Addie's room. Wilson yawns, and House points at him and says this proves his theory -- with Wilson on uppers, he's clearly not yawning because he's tired. House thinks he is yawning because it's a side effect of whatever anti-depressants Wilson is on. Wilson denies he's on anti-depressants, saying he's on "speeeeeeed," all exaggerated and ridiculous and with jazz hands. House doesn't believe him, though, and says "Mr. Well-Adjusted" is just as messed up as everyone else. Um, yeah, House? Mr. Well-Adjusted also lives in a Best Western and has been divorced three times. Maybe compared to you, he's a paragon of stability, but in the real world? Not so much. Wilson says "it's personal" and tries to blame House for his taking the anti-depressants. House says that being annoyed by someone isn't a reason to take anti-depressants. Well, no, but maybe going through all that Tritter crap because of House is. Wilson says that House has no right to act hurt that Wilson didn't tell him about this, since House seems to think the best way to dealing with depression is to OD on Vicodin and fake brain cancer. House tells Wilson to give him some anti-depressants and he'll prove that he doesn't need them. Wilson chuckles and says he won't do it because giving someone else your medicine is wrong. He will, however, take one of House's Vicodins before his heart explodes. Wilson picks up a mug of something to wash it down, but House recommends against it. He says his leg hurts, and then points to towards the kitchen and the mug as he trails off. I'm not sure what exactly is in the mug, but I guess it's something Wilson doesn't need anymore of crawling through his system.