Something inside House snapped harder than the elastic bands he'd been firing. He'd gone too far, given too much bait. Foreman should not have been able to make so sharp a dig. Getting on Foreman's nerves by making not-at-all veiled references to jerking off and wanting to fuck him was one thing, but to be accused of mooning over him was another. House would make him pay.
House sipped on his coffee, slow and deliberate, the sucking sound loud. Couldn't let it show that Foreman had gotten to him, otherwise he'd be making who knew what assumptions.
"Alright, let’s pretend for argument’s sake she’s not me." House granted. "She's only manipulative, deceitful, and self-centered." He pulled out one of the conference chairs and sprawled all over it, hooking his cane on to the table. Sipped his coffee loudly again. "And her ass is better than mine. But she’d never hurt a fly, she'd never screw anyone over for her own benefit, and she certainly wouldn't do that to you." How much was CTB playing Foreman? He wouldn’t be this perky if she hadn’t done a good job of making him think she was sincere.
There was also the tiniest, remotest possibility that CTB wasn’t fucking Foreman for an ulterior motive, but if House was going to believe that, he’d have to change his name to Cameron or Wilson. It could also be just about the sex, but you don’t fuck your career by fucking your coworkers, not if you were Foreman or Amber. They couldn’t be stupid enough to think this wouldn’t have repercussions with him, with Cuddy.
There were things House wanted-- needed-- to know. How things were going to be, now that Foreman was back. How much independence and authority Foreman would try to impose for himself. Why he was back, why he hadn't accepted the position at Zion. And did he really think that CTB wasn't just as calculating and power-hungry as himself? These were things he'd have to find out with time, by testing him.
“I know no one else would take you so you were forced back into this non-demeaning job,” House prodded, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Does putting her through a Springtime for Volakis make you feel better?”
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House sipped on his coffee, slow and deliberate, the sucking sound loud. Couldn't let it show that Foreman had gotten to him, otherwise he'd be making who knew what assumptions.
"Alright, let’s pretend for argument’s sake she’s not me." House granted. "She's only manipulative, deceitful, and self-centered." He pulled out one of the conference chairs and sprawled all over it, hooking his cane on to the table. Sipped his coffee loudly again. "And her ass is better than mine. But she’d never hurt a fly, she'd never screw anyone over for her own benefit, and she certainly wouldn't do that to you." How much was CTB playing Foreman? He wouldn’t be this perky if she hadn’t done a good job of making him think she was sincere.
There was also the tiniest, remotest possibility that CTB wasn’t fucking Foreman for an ulterior motive, but if House was going to believe that, he’d have to change his name to Cameron or Wilson. It could also be just about the sex, but you don’t fuck your career by fucking your coworkers, not if you were Foreman or Amber. They couldn’t be stupid enough to think this wouldn’t have repercussions with him, with Cuddy.
There were things House wanted-- needed-- to know. How things were going to be, now that Foreman was back. How much independence and authority Foreman would try to impose for himself. Why he was back, why he hadn't accepted the position at Zion. And did he really think that CTB wasn't just as calculating and power-hungry as himself? These were things he'd have to find out with time, by testing him.
“I know no one else would take you so you were forced back into this non-demeaning job,” House prodded, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Does putting her through a Springtime for Volakis make you feel better?”