House hops up on the piano while Chase changes his shoes, legs kicking subtly as he watches the careful routine of it. In the interim between slipping off the dance shoes and wrapping the cushion around his toes, House sees that his feet look more like the feet of the ballerinas. Maybe not so rough as some of the principal ballerinas, but there are still raw spots where the shoes rubbed and some obvious old injuries to his toes. It tells him he was right, that this isn't something he just dabbles with for fun or because it'd make a flashy performance to get into the company, but it's something he's passionate about. Something he does whenever he gets the chance, even still.

House hops back down when he's got them tied on and gestures to the bag with an elbow, "Yeah, unless you've got a tutu in there..." now he's just being an ass, because he can.

Then he holds out his hand, and now he's not being an ass. He's offering him a hand up, curious if he'll take it, curious if he'll move against the counterbalance of his weight into the dance, into him, or if he'll shy from it. Either would be telling, and that's why he's here, finding a new way to subtly push, to see if he'll push back.