He met her anger with an equivalent rage, his features distorting as he turned to her with just as much defiance as she. Matched in emotions, it only made Amber's blood boil hotter, willing and wanting to strike back equally hard.
But his response wasn't at all what she expected. Her mouth had opened before he spoke, ready to pounce back with a reply, but she shut it, any possible reply knocked out of her. That was the first time he'd ever said he liked her. Thrown as an accusation, yes, and with a "what" instead of a "you," but the meaning was the same. He'd said it in the face of their anger, not when they were kissing and hugging and affection was so much easier to feel and express. He'd said it knowing she wasn't going to change, that she had been and would keep on being a bitch.
Amber kept her eyes on him, but slinked into her seat, sliding down as her rigidity let up. When she fastened her seatbelt, it wasn't with the same force as she'd mistreated the car door. She breathed a little more regularly as he spilled his thoughts. Yeah, they hardly knew other. It was crazy how involved they'd gotten, with so little time together. They had a lot to learn. "Fuck no," Amber answered to his question. She'd never expected him to agree with her every opinion, just as she knew she wouldn't see eye to eye with him on all issues. She'd never again get behind that 'give House wrong answers' notion, for example. Eric could be stupid in that regard all he wanted, but she wouldn't imitate him. That was all.
Did she want him to never disapprove? Of course. When she did what she had to-- psych out the team players, find and stab into Thirteen's weaknesses-- Amber didn't want to have keep looking over her shoulder, concerned that this would be the straw that broke Eric's faith in her. Agonizing over his opinion would throw her off her game. But she wouldn't be worried, if he was okay with the principle of her strategies. "As long as I get to have mine, you can have all the opinions you want," Amber spat out. While she might not be on the verge of ditching him on the curb anymore, irritation still made her jitter. “Deal?”
no subject
But his response wasn't at all what she expected. Her mouth had opened before he spoke, ready to pounce back with a reply, but she shut it, any possible reply knocked out of her. That was the first time he'd ever said he liked her. Thrown as an accusation, yes, and with a "what" instead of a "you," but the meaning was the same. He'd said it in the face of their anger, not when they were kissing and hugging and affection was so much easier to feel and express. He'd said it knowing she wasn't going to change, that she had been and would keep on being a bitch.
Amber kept her eyes on him, but slinked into her seat, sliding down as her rigidity let up. When she fastened her seatbelt, it wasn't with the same force as she'd mistreated the car door. She breathed a little more regularly as he spilled his thoughts. Yeah, they hardly knew other. It was crazy how involved they'd gotten, with so little time together. They had a lot to learn. "Fuck no," Amber answered to his question. She'd never expected him to agree with her every opinion, just as she knew she wouldn't see eye to eye with him on all issues. She'd never again get behind that 'give House wrong answers' notion, for example. Eric could be stupid in that regard all he wanted, but she wouldn't imitate him. That was all.
Did she want him to never disapprove? Of course. When she did what she had to-- psych out the team players, find and stab into Thirteen's weaknesses-- Amber didn't want to have keep looking over her shoulder, concerned that this would be the straw that broke Eric's faith in her. Agonizing over his opinion would throw her off her game. But she wouldn't be worried, if he was okay with the principle of her strategies. "As long as I get to have mine, you can have all the opinions you want," Amber spat out. While she might not be on the verge of ditching him on the curb anymore, irritation still made her jitter. “Deal?”