For House

It was a gorgeous day. Lyric sat outside the dome with a fag pressed between her lips as she played her guitar. A little Amy, a little Stones, a little original stuff that she played that reminded her of home. She started a gentle tune, reminiscent of Led Zeppelin, that was a song she'd written for Daniel.

She looked up and spotted the good doctor coming up, leaning on his cane. She stilled her strings and plucked the smoke from her lips.

"Morning, bruv," she called, smiling at him. "I made coffee a bit ago. Still in the pot if you like."