"I do not--" Amber scoffed, offended that Thirteen could listen for five minutes and decide that she knew her well enough to read her. She liked Eric, sure, but it what Thirteen made it sound like, as if Amber were starry-eyed and was writing his name over and over in a notebook with a unicorn adorning the cover. And pretty soon, Amber wouldn't so much as like him; she'd be magnificently indifferent, casting aside the crazy things she'd been feeling. Amber wouldn't pine for him once they were done.
At the door's opening swing, Amber whipped toward it, straightening her posture. She'd still impress House. The others could tell him they were late; he'd still hear, one way or another, about how she'd roped Frederick into getting her breakfast.
Amber froze with her hands clasped over her lap. It wasn't House, but Eric. At least she'd been paralyzed with the smile over her face, even if it felt so much more plastic now. Eric wasn't lashing out all over the place, as just before they'd parted. He was more contained now, his movements brisk, as if he'd taken his anger, compacted it deep inside, letting it fester into a foul mood.
"All the doctors here do clinic hours," Kutner pointed out, getting up.
Cole, too, was on his feet, gathering his papers. "Anything is better than sitting around here doing nothing." Taub still looked skeptical, but once Brennan had risen, enough of the group had moved to get the rest going. They filed down the isles and the steps towards the door from which Eric had come in.
Arms crossed and chin high, Amber lingered as the others streamed out. Lagging behind, but not enough to call attention to herself, she stared at Eric for a long moment. She shouldn't. She ought to just go, do her job, and wait for the end of the day to rake up her personal shit. But-- it was such a long wait. And he was here now, close enough to touch, and expression cold, distant. She couldn't wait. If it had to be over, let it end quickly. "I have to talk to you," she said. "Meet me at the locker room." Spinning on her heels, she followed the others before Eric could say no.
no subject
At the door's opening swing, Amber whipped toward it, straightening her posture. She'd still impress House. The others could tell him they were late; he'd still hear, one way or another, about how she'd roped Frederick into getting her breakfast.
Amber froze with her hands clasped over her lap. It wasn't House, but Eric. At least she'd been paralyzed with the smile over her face, even if it felt so much more plastic now. Eric wasn't lashing out all over the place, as just before they'd parted. He was more contained now, his movements brisk, as if he'd taken his anger, compacted it deep inside, letting it fester into a foul mood.
"If I wanted grunt work, I'd send my resumé to a free clinic," Taub muttered.
"All the doctors here do clinic hours," Kutner pointed out, getting up.
Cole, too, was on his feet, gathering his papers. "Anything is better than sitting around here doing nothing." Taub still looked skeptical, but once Brennan had risen, enough of the group had moved to get the rest going. They filed down the isles and the steps towards the door from which Eric had come in.
Arms crossed and chin high, Amber lingered as the others streamed out. Lagging behind, but not enough to call attention to herself, she stared at Eric for a long moment. She shouldn't. She ought to just go, do her job, and wait for the end of the day to rake up her personal shit. But-- it was such a long wait. And he was here now, close enough to touch, and expression cold, distant. She couldn't wait. If it had to be over, let it end quickly. "I have to talk to you," she said. "Meet me at the locker room." Spinning on her heels, she followed the others before Eric could say no.