Foreman sighed tiredly, his shoulders dropping. "No. That's not the problem," he said. It'd be damn hypocritical of him to get pissed off that Amber wouldn't let him near her, when last night he'd been the one who'd needed space. He'd walked away from her, taken the distance he'd needed. Realizing that, Foreman set his jaw muscles. He hated saying he was wrong, even when pride demanded it. He turned to face her. His head still rested against the wall of the elevator, and his arms were still crossed, but his stance had softened. "I'm sorry I pushed you," he said. "I wanted to get back to where we were. You're right, it was too fast."
The elevator doors opened, and Foreman headed out. If he'd been alone, and feeling this way, he'd stride for the doors, his gaze fixed on the floor, radiating just how much he didn't want to talk. For Amber's sake, he slowed his pace and kept his head up, although he kept some space between their bodies, probably more than they'd need to pass as 'just professional'--not that the hospital grapevine didn't already know every word they'd ever exchanged, probably. No, respecting what Amber needed wasn't the problem. Getting her to respect it when he asked the same of her might be more difficult, but if he explained it to her like that, she'd understand. She'd understood him this morning. But Amber hadn't even realized what he was upset about. She was still making everything about touching, about sex.
Foreman waited until they'd made it outside. The night was cold but clear. Once they'd walked far enough beyond the lights of the entrance, where they wouldn't be overheard, he stopped and faced Amber squarely. "I've told you things--" he started, and then grimaced, trying to find a better way to start. He shook his head. "You have to know that if you went to House and told him even half of what I've told you--about my mom, or Marcus--he'd give you the job so fast he'd trip over his damn cane," he said. "He'd have the time of his life. He'd probably give you a raise while he was at it." Foreman gazed at her earnestly, hoping she'd see what the problem was, or at least, that she was listening to him. "When I told you, I knew you'd keep it to yourself, because it was between us," he said. "After yesterday? I don't know that anymore. I trusted you. But I made a call--and Amber, it's not about the medicine. We were both wrong. You undermined me for the job, and I don't know that you won't do it again."
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The elevator doors opened, and Foreman headed out. If he'd been alone, and feeling this way, he'd stride for the doors, his gaze fixed on the floor, radiating just how much he didn't want to talk. For Amber's sake, he slowed his pace and kept his head up, although he kept some space between their bodies, probably more than they'd need to pass as 'just professional'--not that the hospital grapevine didn't already know every word they'd ever exchanged, probably. No, respecting what Amber needed wasn't the problem. Getting her to respect it when he asked the same of her might be more difficult, but if he explained it to her like that, she'd understand. She'd understood him this morning. But Amber hadn't even realized what he was upset about. She was still making everything about touching, about sex.
Foreman waited until they'd made it outside. The night was cold but clear. Once they'd walked far enough beyond the lights of the entrance, where they wouldn't be overheard, he stopped and faced Amber squarely. "I've told you things--" he started, and then grimaced, trying to find a better way to start. He shook his head. "You have to know that if you went to House and told him even half of what I've told you--about my mom, or Marcus--he'd give you the job so fast he'd trip over his damn cane," he said. "He'd have the time of his life. He'd probably give you a raise while he was at it." Foreman gazed at her earnestly, hoping she'd see what the problem was, or at least, that she was listening to him. "When I told you, I knew you'd keep it to yourself, because it was between us," he said. "After yesterday? I don't know that anymore. I trusted you. But I made a call--and Amber, it's not about the medicine. We were both wrong. You undermined me for the job, and I don't know that you won't do it again."