One step forward and a giant leap back: minutes after a goopy declaration Eric wouldn’t even look at her. Then again, she’d bolted from him at the first sight of company. No wonder he was bristling. But what did he expect? That she’d thrust a sword through her job because of a few sentimental sentences?

Amber didn't volunteer any suggestions since she still hadn't thought of anything to unite this constellation of symptoms. Her "boss" had told her she needed to risk being wrong, but even if that weren't the craziest idea this side of New Jersey, House wasn't here and she wouldn't perform for Eric. What point would there be?

She sat up straighter as House slid into the chair besides her, shoulders pressing against the plastic curve. House absolutely wouldn't fire over posture-- otherwise Kutner would've been kicked out for good that first day--and he himself was slumped in his seat, his fingers curling against his mouth. The sitting upright was mostly for her own psychological benefit.

House's bitter emphasis fell over "boss." Was he resisting authority? Or did House resent Eric just as much as vice-versa? If Eric had returned with so much anger, Amber couldn’t imagine he'd left with anything much better. What had happened between them? What had made Eric try to jump ship?

Whatever it was, the fact was that Eric had survived House for three years.

"Lupus," Amber blurted out. Her heart lurched. Yes, Lupus could include the symptoms so far, but it was like calling out Hep A just because of nausea. It was a short-sighted guess, and what was she doing, following the advice of a man who saw meeting a beautiful, assertive woman as the highlight of his career's dying gasps? (Though she was a pretty spectacular woman to meet, Amber granted.)

House shot her a withering glance. Amber didn't so much as cringe.