Amber let him finish, even though she was glaring at him, her colour high and her eyes like steel. Foreman half-expected her to get out and slam the door behind her, even harder the second time. If she couldn't handle being out of control, did that mean she wouldn't take it from him just because he didn't agree with her? There had to be a limit to how much she could expect to control. Foreman didn't know if this was it, but he was sure he couldn't pretend to be enthusiastic when Amber talked about ruining the careers of the other candidates. He'd had his career dive-bombed by House, first when he was leaving in the spring and House was following after him, cancelling his interviews and calling up his potential employers with all the unflattering details of his recent cases. Later, simply because of the trail of jackassery House had left behind him during the course of his career. It had made him feel like shit, and it hadn't exactly made House his favourite person. Fuck, it had felt good to walk out on House even after he'd said that he needed Foreman.
That was the sort of bridge Amber was burning. Foreman didn't even know if she realized it, or if she cared. Maybe she wanted to be hated. There didn't seem to be much else to explain it, since she was good enough to win without fucking people over.
Did he have the self-control to keep his disagreement behind his teeth? Amber knew how he felt. If she wanted to know the reasons, then she could ask. He wasn't going to convince her differently, and he didn't know any of the other candidates well enough to say whether they deserved it or not. In the end, it wasn't his business or his conscience. Foreman nodded. "Fine," he said. He started the car and pulled on his seatbelt, then pulled out and headed for the hospital. They might just make it on time, but they'd have to skip coffee and settle for whatever breakfast they could get from the vending machines.
Still, he couldn't entirely keep his mind on the road. Would Amber ask him to celebrate with her when she'd pulled down her prey? Foreman wasn't sure he was up for that. He'd been disliked plenty, but never hated. Amber seemed to pursue it like a mission, and she was happier when it happened. It couldn't all be about winning. "You can control how they feel about you if you make them hate you," he said quietly, eyes on the traffic. And left unsaid: Don't try to make me hate you for the same reason.
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That was the sort of bridge Amber was burning. Foreman didn't even know if she realized it, or if she cared. Maybe she wanted to be hated. There didn't seem to be much else to explain it, since she was good enough to win without fucking people over.
Did he have the self-control to keep his disagreement behind his teeth? Amber knew how he felt. If she wanted to know the reasons, then she could ask. He wasn't going to convince her differently, and he didn't know any of the other candidates well enough to say whether they deserved it or not. In the end, it wasn't his business or his conscience. Foreman nodded. "Fine," he said. He started the car and pulled on his seatbelt, then pulled out and headed for the hospital. They might just make it on time, but they'd have to skip coffee and settle for whatever breakfast they could get from the vending machines.
Still, he couldn't entirely keep his mind on the road. Would Amber ask him to celebrate with her when she'd pulled down her prey? Foreman wasn't sure he was up for that. He'd been disliked plenty, but never hated. Amber seemed to pursue it like a mission, and she was happier when it happened. It couldn't all be about winning. "You can control how they feel about you if you make them hate you," he said quietly, eyes on the traffic. And left unsaid: Don't try to make me hate you for the same reason.