Foreman wasn't going to dismiss Amber out of hand. He held out his hand for her test results. "Weakly positive," he said, glancing up at her as he spoke, his face open and his voice matter-of-fact. It wasn't a mistake or even unlikely. Amber wasn't wrong. She simply hadn't been here long enough to know how often House's patients had systematic diseases that could so easily look like lupus, because autoimmune diseases could manifest in so many different ways. In Foreman's experience, what looked like lupus--or vasculitis, or any of a half-dozen other common diseases that would affect more than one system--usually wasn't. Just because the body and the brain were both affected didn't mean that there wasn't a logical progression that they hadn't caught yet. Foreman couldn't trust an ANA test when it was so common to get false positives. Especially weak ones.

He might have explained that, if Taub hadn't spoken up. Kutner let out a strangled laugh, like he'd tried to swallow his mirth and choked on it. Thirteen was smiling, and Brennan had let his insubordinate smirk come out in full force. Foreman ground his teeth together, anger slamming through him and setting his shoulders straight and tense. He glowered at Taub for his damn sarcastic crack that wasn't helping. He'd always known working with Amber would come back to bite them in the ass. He hated that it had to be like this, the very first time they'd really worked a case together and had opposing ideas. "We're not treating the patient for both because they're two completely different diseases," he snapped. "We did the tests, the results fit MS. Start her on interferon."