"I don't care," Amber retorted hotly. "We need him and I'm not going to stare at the phone like some teenager waiting for the guy she likes to call back." If at some point there was a lull in the case, while they waited for the exam results to come out or for a treatment to take effect, she might even make a home visit and bang on his door. House'd appreciate her tenacity.

"Why would he be?" Amber asked. She hated working with the team, but that was because she couldn't stand their guts and wanted them all fired. Brennan didn't have that same competitive streak, as far as she knew; at most he wasn't as motivated by the work.

Eric was bounding up the stairs like this was a basketball court and he was back in his ripped shirt and sneakers. Amber darted up quickly, refusing to be left behind, but still annoyed; she couldn't do more than one step a time in her heels, and going this fast she'd work up a sweat. He was still steps ahead of her and growing further and further away.

"Support?" she echoed. What, did he want her to parrot his opinions during the diagnosis session? No way. Never. He shouldn't even wish that. "Support how?" He’d better explain quickly; sorting this out with him was distracting her from thinking about Casey. Amber wouldn’t get any advantage out of knowing the symptoms before the others if she didn’t get the chance to think.