House had half-expected to run into a fragment of his psyche. That was the way his delusions worked--a little reality, a little unreality, and the occasional appearance of his subconscious personified in the form of his best friend's dead girlfriend or, apparently, in the form of a tattooed monk. The monk thing was unexpected; the fact a part of his psyche was a child--not the least bit surprising.

"Okay," he said slowly, taking a few steps toward the boy. "Mind if I ask a question first?"