Amber took his hint and marched into the empty room. Foreman didn't know if that was a good sign or not. She was mad enough to boil him alive, but she hadn't stormed away. He drew the blinds across the glass walls while she spat Brennan's description into the phone.
He had no idea what to do with himself. Feeling slightly hangdog, he stayed near the door, letting her get whatever distance from him she needed. He'd followed her because he'd been concerned, but Amber let her drive and anger rise to the top, so that even though it'd been only a minute ago when House had cut her down, she already looked like she was ready to storm the next battlement. When she clapped her phone shut and turned to him, he felt at once uncertain and like his pride demanded that he get his back up and meet her on a level playing field, matching her blow for blow.
What did he want? Fucked if he knew. He opened his mouth, but before he could so much as fumble out a reply--probably the wrong one--Amber steamrolled past him. This has got to stop. Did she mean the two of them? Or only what had happened between them on this case? Foreman swallowed, watching her, needing to know which she meant before he could respond.
"Does that matter more?" he asked. He'd always thought so. Having his colleagues snickering behind his back would make him tense up more than if there'd been a target painted between his shoulderblades. If they didn't respect you, what did anything else matter? But he'd survived the past three days with everyone he worked with expecting him to fail. And he had, in all the ways that mattered, even if he'd pulled out the diagnosis in the end. He meant, does it matter more than us? If it did, maybe they should go their separate ways. If Amber couldn't stand being with him for fear that Thirteen or one of the others might tease or make jokes. If it was House who bothered her, well, Foreman couldn't respect that as an objection to the two of them. House would mock the hell out of her no matter who she was with, no matter what she cared about. He'd find a way to do it. Amber had to know that. If she'd dump him because of House--if she'd agreed to the diagnosis because of House--then there was nothing that could keep them together.
no subject
He had no idea what to do with himself. Feeling slightly hangdog, he stayed near the door, letting her get whatever distance from him she needed. He'd followed her because he'd been concerned, but Amber let her drive and anger rise to the top, so that even though it'd been only a minute ago when House had cut her down, she already looked like she was ready to storm the next battlement. When she clapped her phone shut and turned to him, he felt at once uncertain and like his pride demanded that he get his back up and meet her on a level playing field, matching her blow for blow.
What did he want? Fucked if he knew. He opened his mouth, but before he could so much as fumble out a reply--probably the wrong one--Amber steamrolled past him. This has got to stop. Did she mean the two of them? Or only what had happened between them on this case? Foreman swallowed, watching her, needing to know which she meant before he could respond.
"Does that matter more?" he asked. He'd always thought so. Having his colleagues snickering behind his back would make him tense up more than if there'd been a target painted between his shoulderblades. If they didn't respect you, what did anything else matter? But he'd survived the past three days with everyone he worked with expecting him to fail. And he had, in all the ways that mattered, even if he'd pulled out the diagnosis in the end. He meant, does it matter more than us? If it did, maybe they should go their separate ways. If Amber couldn't stand being with him for fear that Thirteen or one of the others might tease or make jokes. If it was House who bothered her, well, Foreman couldn't respect that as an objection to the two of them. House would mock the hell out of her no matter who she was with, no matter what she cared about. He'd find a way to do it. Amber had to know that. If she'd dump him because of House--if she'd agreed to the diagnosis because of House--then there was nothing that could keep them together.