As quickly as he could, Foreman tried to dismiss the break in his mood. Tonight was about not thinking about work. About his problems. He shouldn't have been surprised that Amber would ask about the case. It was no wonder he'd had interest pretty much the moment he submitted it for peer review. Foreman felt a grin break through before he could stop it. Recently his luck hadn't been the best, but that case had been fantastic. "I couldn't even believe it when I saw it. We reperfused the circuit, and I saw it. The outline of the clot." He shook his head. He'd never believed it could work, and he'd barely been able to call out when the MRI had shown it--barely a blip, gone almost before it registered. Still, he didn't want to get into a huge discussion of it. He'd never be able to keep House's name out of it, then. A week of job-hunting had told him that the man's name alone was enough to put most people off. They'd look at Foreman with expressions ranging from distaste to outright wondering if he was crazy. Not the discussion he wanted to have. Especially not when Amber kept returning his volleys, her voice nearly husky as she flirted back.

Foreman quirked his eyebrows at her. He'd mostly finished his glass of wine. The conversation wasn't lagging, and if it weren't for his own stupid circumstances, he wouldn't mind trading stories all night. They could drain the bottle, play the get-to-know-you game, but he thought Amber hardly needed the pretense. Not when ten minutes ago on the dancefloor she'd told him the direction her thoughts were heading. "I think it's still raining," he said, letting his voice deepen suggestively. "Can I walk you to your car, Dr. Volakis?"