Right. Like he’d thought. House was going to make juvenile insinuations, play word games, and shoot elastics at him. It was really nothing new and Foreman wasn’t interested in playing. “Uh-huh,” he said, leaving a hint of scoffing disgust showing around the edges of his blank expression. “I’ll let you get back to that, then.” Since House was getting in the way of everything--including getting his own mail—Foreman wasn’t going to hang around and indulge him. He could work in the conference room just as well, and he might as well make House chase him down if he wanted any fun; Foreman wasn’t interested in making it easy for him.
He was headed for the door when House spoke again. He snorted at the idea that House’s candidates learned faster—learned faster that rules didn’t apply to them, learned faster that they could take a life in their hands and disregard the consequences. Great teaching. They were practically House’s disciples. Foreman wasn’t going to think about what that meant for Amber. Partly, he didn’t think she’d learned any of it from House; House was only refining what she’d brought to the table. He’d said that he wasn’t going to interfere with her getting the job, and he wasn’t. He’d done plenty of stupid things working for House that he regretted in hindsight, even knowing that they were probably the only actions he could have taken at the time. That was the extent of the judgement he was making, in Amber’s case. As for the rest, he’d wait and see who House actually hired before he bothered giving a crap about their life choices.
At the door, Foreman turned back long enough to raise his eyebrow at House. The word wasn’t lost on him, but neither was the fact that House wanted to irk him. When he knew that’s what House was aiming for, it was so much easier to piss him off by not rising to the bait. “I’m getting a cup of coffee, and then I’m answering your mail, and no, I don’t find that demeaning. It’s my job until you manage to mold your fellows into working on a case.” He suited actions to words, letting the door fall shut between them.
no subject
He was headed for the door when House spoke again. He snorted at the idea that House’s candidates learned faster—learned faster that rules didn’t apply to them, learned faster that they could take a life in their hands and disregard the consequences. Great teaching. They were practically House’s disciples. Foreman wasn’t going to think about what that meant for Amber. Partly, he didn’t think she’d learned any of it from House; House was only refining what she’d brought to the table. He’d said that he wasn’t going to interfere with her getting the job, and he wasn’t. He’d done plenty of stupid things working for House that he regretted in hindsight, even knowing that they were probably the only actions he could have taken at the time. That was the extent of the judgement he was making, in Amber’s case. As for the rest, he’d wait and see who House actually hired before he bothered giving a crap about their life choices.
At the door, Foreman turned back long enough to raise his eyebrow at House. The word wasn’t lost on him, but neither was the fact that House wanted to irk him. When he knew that’s what House was aiming for, it was so much easier to piss him off by not rising to the bait. “I’m getting a cup of coffee, and then I’m answering your mail, and no, I don’t find that demeaning. It’s my job until you manage to mold your fellows into working on a case.” He suited actions to words, letting the door fall shut between them.