Amber had to respect the guy, demanding satisfaction. She did the same thing all the time, even over a simple haircut; with medical care, there was all the more reason to be insistent. Why should he accept shoddy service? Automatically seeking a supportive reaction from someone on her side, Amber glanced at Eric, remembering only too late that they were not close anymore. She looked away quickly. Stupid, to let herself forget she couldn’t count on Eric as a companion; stupider, to let her reaction show so clearly.
Since she often threatened to contact people higher up in the hierarchy, Amber knew what would assuage the patient: fawning attention and assurances that they would talk to their supervisors. Eric himself seemed to know these strategies, and he pacified their John Doe into a surprising cooperativeness. He was good at the attention part, Amber thought bitterly; it was a pity he didn’t know how to follow that up with consideration.
“I’d say,” Amber replied softly to Eric’s comment. “Which rules out laryngospasm.” Here was the bright side of being paired up with Eric for this test: she had immediate access to the newest symptoms, giving her the edge over everyone else.
Her mind raced with possible diagnoses, saying none of them out loud. Partially this was out of habit; she knew better than to feed suggestions to her competition, and even if Eric had a guaranteed spot on the roster, it was hard to trust him with her thoughts. Ideas here were currency, and no way was she giving up hers. After the way he’d hidden the truth about working for House, for his own gain, she didn’t put it past him to steal her ideas.
The elevator opened its doors with a ping and Amber entered first, holding the doors open. Just because she wouldn’t voice her thoughts to Eric didn’t mean she couldn’t try to get him to ‘fess up his. “So,” she whispered. Their patient continued tranquil, staring ahead as if he’d spaced out. Better to not jolt him out of his silence; she sympathized with his high standards, but she didn’t care to put up with his bossiness. “Any more bright ideas?”
no subject
Since she often threatened to contact people higher up in the hierarchy, Amber knew what would assuage the patient: fawning attention and assurances that they would talk to their supervisors. Eric himself seemed to know these strategies, and he pacified their John Doe into a surprising cooperativeness. He was good at the attention part, Amber thought bitterly; it was a pity he didn’t know how to follow that up with consideration.
“I’d say,” Amber replied softly to Eric’s comment. “Which rules out laryngospasm.” Here was the bright side of being paired up with Eric for this test: she had immediate access to the newest symptoms, giving her the edge over everyone else.
Her mind raced with possible diagnoses, saying none of them out loud. Partially this was out of habit; she knew better than to feed suggestions to her competition, and even if Eric had a guaranteed spot on the roster, it was hard to trust him with her thoughts. Ideas here were currency, and no way was she giving up hers. After the way he’d hidden the truth about working for House, for his own gain, she didn’t put it past him to steal her ideas.
The elevator opened its doors with a ping and Amber entered first, holding the doors open. Just because she wouldn’t voice her thoughts to Eric didn’t mean she couldn’t try to get him to ‘fess up his. “So,” she whispered. Their patient continued tranquil, staring ahead as if he’d spaced out. Better to not jolt him out of his silence; she sympathized with his high standards, but she didn’t care to put up with his bossiness. “Any more bright ideas?”