Foreman fixed Amber with a dry look when she erupted in more excuses. He got it, or he thought he did, that she simply didn't want to acknowledge the emotional cost of a mistake like that. She hated being wrong, but that meant she had some feeling about it too. Like guilt. Anyway, he hadn't been talking about her--what he'd said only meant something to him. He'd never gotten away from his own damn mistakes, and he already knew learning from them wasn't enough. "It's different for me," he said, stilted and repressive.

So often he felt like he was scrambling to get away from topics; Amber had him on the retreat again, trying to find something they could have a conversation about without dragging his damn emotions into it. Playing a joke on House had the benefit of shocking the hell out of him, but it wasn't easy to pull off. Amber was right, she was in no position to try something that might get her summarily fired. "Yeah, maybe not." The only person who really got away with tricking House was Wilson. House got interested when he was surprised, though. Like when Foreman had dared to be happy for all of five minutes. House couldn't stand it, and had hounded him until Foreman had been battered right back into the box he'd tried to climb out of. He'd hated it; no reason to push Amber into the same thing, because House's interest should be something he was saving her from, not encouraging her to seek out.

Before he took Amber's hand, Foreman pushed his chair in and set hers back in its place, and stacked their lunch trays so that the busser could grab them more easily. He picked up his coat from his chairback and put it on, and then took Amber's offer and linked fingers with her as they headed out.