Foreman barely noticed Chase falling into step with him. His answer--that of course he and Cameron fought--was no help at all. Foreman grunted. What was he supposed to do with that? It hadn't stopped them from getting together, great. That was because Chase could be spineless and Cameron could rationalize her way out of a minotaur's maze. It wasn't the same. Amber could cut him with a glance, freeze up and throw the worst things she could say at him. This soon, and she already knew what weapons hurt the most. Being with her put him in the line of fire, and that wasn't what Foreman wanted to be thinking about when he was with her. So much of the time, it wasn't--it was only when something came between them, a medical opinion or anything else--that he felt the enormity of being that target. The more they got to know each other, the more ammunition Amber would have. They'd both have. Foreman had said his share of things that he shouldn't have, and he knew that.

"No," he said, pushing open the cafeteria door and stepping into the line. This was a stupid place to talk. He didn't know why he'd agreed to come here. Having the nurses whispering about him and Amber would hardly help her to trust him. Maybe the promise not to tell anyone about what they'd done was implicit, but Foreman wanted to honour it. He moved to the coffee and poured himself another cup, and grabbed a bagel too. At least he'd eat. And push the conversation back on to Chase. "So that's it? You fought and made up and you've settled down together?" House would probably vomit at the saccharine thought. Foreman could already feel himself gagging. The perfect couple. He tossed a couple of bills at the cashier and waited for his change.