"I don't want you to do anything about it," Amber snapped, stung that he'd thought such a thing. "I'm not some tattletale kid running to the teacher; I can take care of myself." She strode more briskly from the building's entrance to the car, heels clacking louder against the pavement. This was her job, her passion, and she'd been doing it fantastically, without Eric and his arrogant, gallant self thinking that she needed protection. Did he not understand her at all?
Eric's expression was smoothed over, but by now Amber could read loud and clear the subtext in his politely blank faces. She saw his derision. “Exactly." Amber wrenched the door open, slammed it shut once she was inside. "That’s why I told you, so you'd know what you've gotten yourself into."
Fuck this. She’d been all worried how he’d see her, manipulating her way to the top, and if he’d turn away from her because of her viciousness. But if he already looked at her askew and judgmental, then she wouldn’t let him hold her back. If he couldn’t deal with her Machiavellian personality, then he couldn’t handle her, period. She'd dump his sorry ass and rid herself of his bullshit.
Amber had thought of going to Wilson first thing, to tell him how worried she was about House, and how much she wished she could help, in some way, to make his life a bit brighter. She’d milk Wilson for details on his best friend's love life, and from there find someone to throw in House's direction. But right now, incredulous that she’d ever let half-cocked Eric near much less in her, Amber didn’t much care to save their relationship.
She stared at Eric, cool and hard-set. Her only regret, if they broke up right now, was that she'd never be able to pay him back for the prank from just a few minutes ago, not in the same spirit. Any retribution would be seeped with punishing, not playful, revenge. And Amber didn’t believe in vengeance, in carrying grudges that only served to make her bitter.
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Eric's expression was smoothed over, but by now Amber could read loud and clear the subtext in his politely blank faces. She saw his derision. “Exactly." Amber wrenched the door open, slammed it shut once she was inside. "That’s why I told you, so you'd know what you've gotten yourself into."
Fuck this. She’d been all worried how he’d see her, manipulating her way to the top, and if he’d turn away from her because of her viciousness. But if he already looked at her askew and judgmental, then she wouldn’t let him hold her back. If he couldn’t deal with her Machiavellian personality, then he couldn’t handle her, period. She'd dump his sorry ass and rid herself of his bullshit.
Amber had thought of going to Wilson first thing, to tell him how worried she was about House, and how much she wished she could help, in some way, to make his life a bit brighter. She’d milk Wilson for details on his best friend's love life, and from there find someone to throw in House's direction. But right now, incredulous that she’d ever let half-cocked Eric near much less in her, Amber didn’t much care to save their relationship.
She stared at Eric, cool and hard-set. Her only regret, if they broke up right now, was that she'd never be able to pay him back for the prank from just a few minutes ago, not in the same spirit. Any retribution would be seeped with punishing, not playful, revenge. And Amber didn’t believe in vengeance, in carrying grudges that only served to make her bitter.