Foreman dropped the last bit of sandwich crust on his plate. Full and warm and nicely tired out, with no more emotional whiplash about Shanelle or his family tightening him up. Whatever Amber had done to Thirteen, maybe gotten on her case about a mistake, or showed her up, or even found a way to make a dig at her weaknesses, that wasn't going to budge him from his lazy feeling of contentment. His mouth quirked up as Amber took his hand, and he ran his thumb over her wrist in return, focusing more on the touch than on her story.
Practical joke. Foreman nodded, not really taking in the details, although something nagged at him about what Amber had said. Gradually, it got through to him, and he glanced sideways at her. If she were stronger... Like grieving over killing a patient made her weak. Foreman swallowed, his jaw tensing despite himself. He didn't want to bring it up. Hadn't they had enough stupid fights today? Too many about him, and what got him upset--or maybe that was just another word for 'weak', in Amber's eyes. But he doubted very much that Thirteen had fallen for anything because she wasn't strong enough or smart enough to be rational about someone playing a fucking joke. When you killed someone, that stayed with you. A week later? Try a month, a year. Jesus, even House had enough human feeling for that, he'd hung on to one of his dead patients for over a decade. Maybe because it was a puzzle, but maybe because he actually felt something about being wrong enough to kill someone.
Fuck. There was no need to say anything. Except if he didn't, Amber was going to think it was because he disapproved of her, of the way she fought her battles. Well, in this case he did. Not because she'd played a joke on Thirteen. If it had been over anything else, he probably would have laughed. No, it was her damn assumption that killing a patient could just be brushed away, like it was nothing. That could only mean that she'd never fucked up enough to kill someone. Of course. Amber wouldn't let herself be anything less than perfect like that. Foreman had thought the same, once. Been so arrogant as to think that if he'd thought it, it was right, and there couldn't possibly be any consequences.
He cleared his throat. Knowing suddenly seemed more important than whether they'd fought or whether they were happy. "Maybe there was a reason her head wasn't in the game. Have you ever killed a patient?"
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Practical joke. Foreman nodded, not really taking in the details, although something nagged at him about what Amber had said. Gradually, it got through to him, and he glanced sideways at her. If she were stronger... Like grieving over killing a patient made her weak. Foreman swallowed, his jaw tensing despite himself. He didn't want to bring it up. Hadn't they had enough stupid fights today? Too many about him, and what got him upset--or maybe that was just another word for 'weak', in Amber's eyes. But he doubted very much that Thirteen had fallen for anything because she wasn't strong enough or smart enough to be rational about someone playing a fucking joke. When you killed someone, that stayed with you. A week later? Try a month, a year. Jesus, even House had enough human feeling for that, he'd hung on to one of his dead patients for over a decade. Maybe because it was a puzzle, but maybe because he actually felt something about being wrong enough to kill someone.
Fuck. There was no need to say anything. Except if he didn't, Amber was going to think it was because he disapproved of her, of the way she fought her battles. Well, in this case he did. Not because she'd played a joke on Thirteen. If it had been over anything else, he probably would have laughed. No, it was her damn assumption that killing a patient could just be brushed away, like it was nothing. That could only mean that she'd never fucked up enough to kill someone. Of course. Amber wouldn't let herself be anything less than perfect like that. Foreman had thought the same, once. Been so arrogant as to think that if he'd thought it, it was right, and there couldn't possibly be any consequences.
He cleared his throat. Knowing suddenly seemed more important than whether they'd fought or whether they were happy. "Maybe there was a reason her head wasn't in the game. Have you ever killed a patient?"