Amber's quiet snort caught Foreman's attention, but he didn't know what to make of it. Her fingertips against his pulse were light and gentle, and if her smile had faded, then her happiness hadn't, even if she was staring away from him, out the window.
Maybe 'the whole hospital knowing' explained it. Foreman tested his own reaction to that statement, and found only a vague discomfort. He'd obviously prefer it if everyone stayed the hell out of his business, but he didn't anticipate a lot of gossip. Usually he wasn't part of the chain of rumours, because he kept to himself. As a result, when he did have a relationship--when he'd been with Wendy, for instance--even House, keeping his ear to the ground, hadn't found out about it for a few weeks. "Yeah," he said, "they probably do. But they don't matter, as long as we're okay. And if House isn't a jackass about it then it's not even an issue. We'll be fine."
The biggest problem would be telling Cuddy. The longer Foreman put it off, the less professional it would seem. He didn't see a problem, as long as she was aware. He was capable of discretion, unlike, for instance, people who fucked in sleep labs. Not that he was naming names. Despite the bullshit authority Cuddy had given him, Foreman was more on Amber's level than on House's. Still, Cuddy should know, before House caught her by surprise with the information and tried to use it against her.
Foreman pulled into the hospital parking lot, easing his way along the stalls to his parking space. He didn't want to leave it at that, like he was reassuring Amber about something that she had to already know. He parked and sat back for a second, leaving his keys in the ignition. "I mean." He swallowed and turned to Amber. "I don't care about them. I care about you."
no subject
Maybe 'the whole hospital knowing' explained it. Foreman tested his own reaction to that statement, and found only a vague discomfort. He'd obviously prefer it if everyone stayed the hell out of his business, but he didn't anticipate a lot of gossip. Usually he wasn't part of the chain of rumours, because he kept to himself. As a result, when he did have a relationship--when he'd been with Wendy, for instance--even House, keeping his ear to the ground, hadn't found out about it for a few weeks. "Yeah," he said, "they probably do. But they don't matter, as long as we're okay. And if House isn't a jackass about it then it's not even an issue. We'll be fine."
The biggest problem would be telling Cuddy. The longer Foreman put it off, the less professional it would seem. He didn't see a problem, as long as she was aware. He was capable of discretion, unlike, for instance, people who fucked in sleep labs. Not that he was naming names. Despite the bullshit authority Cuddy had given him, Foreman was more on Amber's level than on House's. Still, Cuddy should know, before House caught her by surprise with the information and tried to use it against her.
Foreman pulled into the hospital parking lot, easing his way along the stalls to his parking space. He didn't want to leave it at that, like he was reassuring Amber about something that she had to already know. He parked and sat back for a second, leaving his keys in the ignition. "I mean." He swallowed and turned to Amber. "I don't care about them. I care about you."