Seriously, how silly could you get? It was just coffee that'd probably be fifty kinds of awkward with a ninety percent chance of ending in a fight. Very, very silly. But Eric sure did have a beautiful smile. It shone through even his fake sternness. "Yes, you!" Amber raised her hand to whap his arm and maybe do something a bit more tender, but stopped halfway; she couldn't touch him on hospital grounds. She segued the aborted playful smack with running her fingers through her hair. "I'm always wise and right, you know that."

Though Amber's high spirits sank as she went through the doorway, her steps quickened and her posture became taller, more rigid. Damn if she'd show the others sign of weakness. It'd be like throwing a bloody carcass into a tank of starving sharks. As she swept in, she scanned the rooms for House: gone. She could look forward to his teasing later, then. Her abdomen clenched in anticipation, her pulse beat just a bit faster. "Yeah," Amber said to Eric, not glancing back at him as she went into the conference room.

"And he was like, Screw you! and I think he would’ve hit House--" Kutner stopped, his hands in the air. "Heeeeey, you're back. Make up with Eric?"

Of all the times to follow House's example. "None of your business," Amber replied, sitting down and scooting the chair closer to the table.

"It kind of is," Taub said. "Since his mood affects us all."

Thirteen looked up sharply, glaring. "God, what does it matter? It's not as if they won't make up or fight again in five minutes." Burning heat overtook Amber. If she didn't interrupt Thirteen, it was only because she didn't even know what she was feeling. "Can we just do this? The sooner it's over, the sooner we can get out of here."

"I'm with her," Amber muttered. At least that much she agreed with. She wouldn’t tackle the rest of what Thirteen had said; her private life was already way too public. Together with Taub and Cole, they worked to complete the forms.