The clatter of dice against a felt-lined board startled Lisa out of her script reading, and she rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair and letting her head fall back as far as it would. “Boys! Some people are trying to concentrate over here!”
    “Apologies, your highness,” Hugh shot back, not even turning around to face her. Greg was eyeing the board suspiciously.
    “Are you very sure that last move was legal?”
    “We’re playing British rules, are we not?” Hugh tried, and Greg burst out laughing and moved Hugh’s pieces back to where they’d begun.
    “Backgammon. Of all things. Shouldn’t you two be playing chess or something brainy?” Lisa called, straightening up again and going back to her pages.
    “Mee mee mee, maw maw maw,” Hugh mimicked in a very feminine tone, and was nearly beaned in the back of the head by a flying highlighter coming from the direction of his co-star.
    “HA!” Greg pointed at Hugh. “I win. You owe me ten bucks.”
    “Fine, fine, fine.”
    “And don’t forget our other deal.”
    “I said fine!” Hugh said, his voice suddenly sharp. Greg raised an eyebrow at him and Hugh rolled his eyes, tossed a ten dollar bill at the director, and headed over to his chair next to Lisa. She lasted about a quarter of a second before her curiosity got the better of her.
    “Other deal?” She whispered, leaning into his space. Hugh sighed.
    “Little bet. No big deal. Greg said if he beat me I had to compose something for this next episode.” He looked at his co-star. “You’re catching flies.”
    “Um—” Lisa closed her mouth. “I’m sorry. Compose? Well why not? And when are we ever going to run across something you can’t do?”
    “I can’t rap. I can’t give manicures. And I can’t bring myself to write down anything I’ve written.”
    “You wrote a book.”
    “Any music I’ve written.”
    “For crying out loud.”
    “You have scenes with Rob next, don’t you?” He asked, looking at the pages Lisa was holding. “I’m going to go in the music room for a bit and see if I can knock this out real quick.”
    “Ok. I’ll come find you if they need you.” Lisa smiled at him and headed toward the set. Hugh watched her go—not as obviously as House would have, but watched nonetheless—before getting up and heading for one of the soundproof music rooms down the hall. Actually, ‘rooms’ was probably not the right word, he thought as he ducked in and closed the door behind him. They were hardly big enough to be called rooms—more like booths than anything. Hugh idly ran his fingers down the keys with his right hand as his left reached behind the music stand for staff paper and a pencil.
    When Greg Yaitanes had broached the idea of House having his own specific tune for when he was thinking about Cuddy, Hugh had thought it was a brilliant idea. When Greg Yaitanes had broached the idea of having Hugh write it rather than bring in a professional composer, Hugh had thought he had lost his mind.
    “I’m not a composer!” He had protested, holding up his hands in protest.
    For whatever good that had done. A random snatch of melody floated out of his right hand, and he brought up his left for octaves. What he knew of Jewish ceremonial music (which, arguably, wasn’t much) started to form in a light tune and after a while he started to make notations on the paper. A page or so in, he closed his eyes and banged his forehead against the stand the pages were sitting on.
    Think. How to translate this relationship… who is she? Hugh wrinkled his nose, not moving. Let’s not get into which ‘she’ he was thinking of, real or imaginary. Just go with it. Lisa… Cuddy?
    “So flirtatious,” he muttered, moving back a little and penciling in some changes. “Grace notes. I wonder…”
    “How’s it coming?” Lisa had opened the door just a bit and stuck her head in. Hugh gestured for her to enter and close the door behind her, and she took a seat on the bench next to him.
    “It’s coming, I guess.” He bit his lip and glanced at her. “I was thinking about the pilot.”
    “Of the show?”
    “No—of the plane that flew me here.” Hugh said, looking at her, only to see the teasing light in her eyes. “Stop that.”
    “Sorry. What about the pilot?”’    
    “The philosopher Jagger. I want to try and get a bit of that song in here somewhere… do you think that’s too much?”
    “No. No, I think that’s really good. Can I hear what you have so far?”
    Hugh looked at the keys for so long that Lisa thought he wasn’t going to play for her. Then, finally, he raised his hands and she smiled, closing her eyes and listening.
    It was such a light, simple air—just a bit playful, but still easily beautiful. As the last notes faded away, a faint smile crept across her lips. When she opened her eyes, Hugh was looking at her intensely. Lisa blinked slowly at him, and then leaned over just a little bit to kiss his cheek.
    “Hugh, it’s gorgeous,” she said lowly as she moved away, standing up. “Honestly. It’s perfect.”
    Hugh stood up and faced her, reaching to cup her face and draw her to him, kissing her cheek swiftly. “It’s you.”
~*~*~
    The set was quiet. Hugh was sitting at House’s piano, waiting for the word from the director. Lisa was standing in the farthest, darkest corner, leaning against the wall, arms folded over her chest, waiting. Finally the lights were set, the props were in place, and the director was ready. Hugh started to play.
    Lisa saw the crew members exchange looks, the writers smiling to themselves. The other actors that were still on set were listening intently, and Lisa herself? Lisa was back in the music room in her mind, replaying the earlier afternoon over and over. Why had she done that?
    The final notes faded away, the camera stopped for the first take, and Hugh looked up from the piano. His gaze zeroed in on her immediately, only half-visible in the shadows, and locked with her own intense stare.
    Oh... that’s why.
~*~*~

Reading Group Guide Discussion Question:

Earlier in this segment, there is mention of Hugh suddenly getting a bit sharp with Greg at the mention of their bet. Why was Hugh so short with him?