She saw him lean, his features zooming into her focus, before feeling his lips against hers, soft and pressing. Amber yielded without question, closing her eyes, chest fluttering with a bright, happy feeling. Kissed him back, inclining towards him, mouth instinctively seeking out his warmth. When he parted but a few seconds later, Amber trailed after him, wanting more. Jeez, Eric made her feel so much with almost nothing. Even knowing how the nervous system worked and the symptoms of infatuation, it was so strange to feel it for herself.
His words, too-- yeah, he was right. No regrets. More content than perhaps since waking up this morning, at peace with her (temporary) losses, Amber settled back into her chair, scraping the bottom of the bowl for more of the chowder. She should've ordered one for herself. Eric too seemed at ease, eating up the last of his sandwich with pleasure.
Work was a safe topic as long as they didn't delve into their current jobs. And here, finishing a good meal after a hell of a work out, their jobs with House seemed like a distant memory, like something from an old story. Nothing that could cause problems between them. "Right, boring," Amber said after hearing about the end of his residency in L.A. "And you wanted bigger and better. Did you go straight to House after that?"
"You've already read all about my best case," Amber said, pride strong in her voice. She wasn't going to stop glowing over that anytime soon. She solved the mystery, before House. All the case descriptions she'd read indicated that was an almost-never occurring phenomenon. "Nailing one out of four is a pretty good record, far as I can tell. And I've had some good moments helping reach the final diagnosis." Amber smirked at him; if he could rub in her defeats, so could she. "Like when I shot down your Münchausen's theory." She put the bowl down and picked up the small remaining portion of her sandwich. “Messing with Thirteen was fun,” she admitted. “House said it was why I got the flower.”
no subject
His words, too-- yeah, he was right. No regrets. More content than perhaps since waking up this morning, at peace with her (temporary) losses, Amber settled back into her chair, scraping the bottom of the bowl for more of the chowder. She should've ordered one for herself. Eric too seemed at ease, eating up the last of his sandwich with pleasure.
Work was a safe topic as long as they didn't delve into their current jobs. And here, finishing a good meal after a hell of a work out, their jobs with House seemed like a distant memory, like something from an old story. Nothing that could cause problems between them. "Right, boring," Amber said after hearing about the end of his residency in L.A. "And you wanted bigger and better. Did you go straight to House after that?"
"You've already read all about my best case," Amber said, pride strong in her voice. She wasn't going to stop glowing over that anytime soon. She solved the mystery, before House. All the case descriptions she'd read indicated that was an almost-never occurring phenomenon. "Nailing one out of four is a pretty good record, far as I can tell. And I've had some good moments helping reach the final diagnosis." Amber smirked at him; if he could rub in her defeats, so could she. "Like when I shot down your Münchausen's theory." She put the bowl down and picked up the small remaining portion of her sandwich. “Messing with Thirteen was fun,” she admitted. “House said it was why I got the flower.”