Foreman threw the mail on the conference room table and went straight to the coffee maker. After his 'breakfast' of pretty much nothing, the coffee wasn't the best idea; he knew it'd leave him jittery if he didn't eat something soon. He dumped a couple of packets of sugar into his cup to tide him over until he'd eaten something more substantial than bread. He knew that House would follow him--sooner or later, he was like a kid with a scab, he couldn't leave well enough alone. Foreman tried to breathe through however long his reprieve turned out to be.
Not long at all. He'd barely finished pouring himself some coffee and sticking the pot back under the drip than House flung the door in, like he'd had one of his fucking epiphanies. It was pointless now to think about getting any work done. House wouldn't shut up and even if he did he'd probably take his arsenal of rubber bands to Foreman's head. The smart thing to do would be to walk out of the damn room, faster than House could keep up. Take the stairs. Go to the cafeteria and buy some food. Come back once House's miniscule attention span had focused on something else. It wouldn't take much; he was like an ADD kid watching a sloth cross a room.
Foreman could leave, but he knew House would see it as a win--making him run away. Shit, it was running away. Foreman wasn't going to give up that quickly. "No," he said flatly. House had been the one to imply that working for him again, in any capacity, was demeaning for Foreman. It was. It wasn't one step down from Mercy, but more like half a dozen. But Foreman was determined to put in the time and get back on top, so he refused to see any of the work he did as less than vital, and that was all there was to it. He wasn't going to bother explaining that to House, since House would stare at him like a gaping fish and pretend not to understand. He rolled his eyes, but he poured another cup of coffee for House. Anything to prove that he wasn't the childish one here.
"Yeah, since you weren't available, I decided Amber was nothing more than a substitute," Foreman said, sarcasm edging his voice. God, even the thought was a nightmare. Like he'd ever want anything to do with House if he could avoid it. And House couldn't be more wrong. Amber was nothing like him. She had actual feelings, she didn't cut Foreman down to prove she could, and she didn't make it her goal in life to make him as miserable as possible. Foreman made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat. "Sorry, House, but your metaphor sucks. She's not you, and I'm not becoming you by being with her. But enjoy the delusion if it helps you get over me."
no subject
Not long at all. He'd barely finished pouring himself some coffee and sticking the pot back under the drip than House flung the door in, like he'd had one of his fucking epiphanies. It was pointless now to think about getting any work done. House wouldn't shut up and even if he did he'd probably take his arsenal of rubber bands to Foreman's head. The smart thing to do would be to walk out of the damn room, faster than House could keep up. Take the stairs. Go to the cafeteria and buy some food. Come back once House's miniscule attention span had focused on something else. It wouldn't take much; he was like an ADD kid watching a sloth cross a room.
Foreman could leave, but he knew House would see it as a win--making him run away. Shit, it was running away. Foreman wasn't going to give up that quickly. "No," he said flatly. House had been the one to imply that working for him again, in any capacity, was demeaning for Foreman. It was. It wasn't one step down from Mercy, but more like half a dozen. But Foreman was determined to put in the time and get back on top, so he refused to see any of the work he did as less than vital, and that was all there was to it. He wasn't going to bother explaining that to House, since House would stare at him like a gaping fish and pretend not to understand. He rolled his eyes, but he poured another cup of coffee for House. Anything to prove that he wasn't the childish one here.
"Yeah, since you weren't available, I decided Amber was nothing more than a substitute," Foreman said, sarcasm edging his voice. God, even the thought was a nightmare. Like he'd ever want anything to do with House if he could avoid it. And House couldn't be more wrong. Amber was nothing like him. She had actual feelings, she didn't cut Foreman down to prove she could, and she didn't make it her goal in life to make him as miserable as possible. Foreman made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat. "Sorry, House, but your metaphor sucks. She's not you, and I'm not becoming you by being with her. But enjoy the delusion if it helps you get over me."