Every step of his was a part of the game, Amber knew. Not one intonated syllable, facial twitch, or arm swing wasn't calculated-- and the words, too, were sharpened for maximum damage. And yet Amber felt regal, divine, as House took his place at the bottom of the theater, speaking loudly to be heard, like a peon seeking audience with the queen. Amber's mouth curled upwards, smug to be the focus of so much undivided attention. It was flattering, House narrowing down on her. It was with the confidence of a brewing fight that Amber curved into her chair, one arm leaning against the backrest, her chest rising. She felt taller, stronger. Ready to bite back. "You get your perks, House," Amber promised, voice low and rich. To her Eric was Eric, so it was not strange at all to hear that name. If it was meant to hurt-- and surely it was supposed to, given House's saccharine tone-- it missed the mark.

It'd only get worse, Amber knew. House was persistent, figured out how to cut deeper as more material was given him. The trick was to play it cool, hide any sore spots. She'd defend herself best as she could, but she wouldn't attack, either. It'd make him more vicious, aggressive. And he had more power on his side, the ax to fire her. She just had to withstand; insinuate things he wanted. Keep herself desirable in his eyes. "I'm working on that," she said coyly. Now there was a thought, sleeping with Cuddy. House would keep her on the roster just for the lesbian fantasies alone. "And it'd be a shame not keep a record of the event." Amber pulled her shoulders back, pushed her outer lip slightly; it was still glossy red after kissing Eric, she'd checked in the locker room. Waited for House's response, his coming remarks. He could land a real hit; she braced herself for that, relying on the excitement of facing a challenge to lessen the impact. If he was having fun, so would she.