Foreman couldn't remember the last time he'd been this frustrated. He practically wanted to throw his hands up in the air and leave the department in chaos. Wouldn't Cuddy appreciate that, if he showed her what this game would be like without him running things when House decided to disappear. They'd be treating the patient for five different contradictory things and none of them would give a shit if it cured her or not, as long as they could point to any results at all once House came back. "I get that you want to be right," he started, not speaking directly to Amber even though he was barely holding back Yes, because I fucking said so.
"Yeah, a little more concerned with that than you seem to be," Brennan sniped.
Foreman glared at him, and thank Christ Amber was too, otherwise he'd think that she was interested in leading this fucking mutiny. "This isn't about winning," he said. "This is about not killing a girl because you think you're good enough not to think about how she's holding up through whatever treatment you want to throw at her."
Dammit. His own words, meant for them, reminded him of exactly how precarious his own position was. He didn't want to treat without confirmation. He wasn't House. He wasn't going to jump in without more evidence than an inconclusive MRI and a few symptoms that pointed in the right direction. Casey's fever was under control with the anti-pyretics and unless something else happened, she was stable for now. The MS test would take three hours. He could stand to wait that long. "Fine," he said, annoyed but trying to hide it. "Run the tests. You've got three hours."
Maybe he should take a minute to apologize to Amber. But he'd already spent more of today apologizing than he'd ever wanted to, and he hadn't meant his words for her in the first place. Just because she assumed he'd insult her like that, right after he'd directly asked for her help and her input, was no reason he should assume the blame. He wasn't going to go running to her and beg for forgiveness every time she took a slight from something he said. Foreman let them all go off and chase down whatever harebrained ideas they wanted, and retreated back into House's office. At least he could sit in here and try to think things through without the candidates breathing down his neck.
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"Yeah, a little more concerned with that than you seem to be," Brennan sniped.
Foreman glared at him, and thank Christ Amber was too, otherwise he'd think that she was interested in leading this fucking mutiny. "This isn't about winning," he said. "This is about not killing a girl because you think you're good enough not to think about how she's holding up through whatever treatment you want to throw at her."
Dammit. His own words, meant for them, reminded him of exactly how precarious his own position was. He didn't want to treat without confirmation. He wasn't House. He wasn't going to jump in without more evidence than an inconclusive MRI and a few symptoms that pointed in the right direction. Casey's fever was under control with the anti-pyretics and unless something else happened, she was stable for now. The MS test would take three hours. He could stand to wait that long. "Fine," he said, annoyed but trying to hide it. "Run the tests. You've got three hours."
Maybe he should take a minute to apologize to Amber. But he'd already spent more of today apologizing than he'd ever wanted to, and he hadn't meant his words for her in the first place. Just because she assumed he'd insult her like that, right after he'd directly asked for her help and her input, was no reason he should assume the blame. He wasn't going to go running to her and beg for forgiveness every time she took a slight from something he said. Foreman let them all go off and chase down whatever harebrained ideas they wanted, and retreated back into House's office. At least he could sit in here and try to think things through without the candidates breathing down his neck.