There was nothing Foreman could say. He wasn't fantasizing about Amber and Thirteen--and if he was, it wasn't his fault; Amber had all but deliberately planted those images in his mind. I am not was too juvenile a response to even consider blurting out. He shook his head, intending to turn away the obvious bait, and then Amber hit the bullseye again with I have.
Foreman had to pause before he could swallow the mouthful of hashbrown he'd just chewed. Amber admitted it. The questions piled up in Foreman's brain like a ten-car crash on the Turnpike. No way was he going to ask a single one. The only way he'd get out of this with any dignity at all would be if he acted nonchalant. Maybe he'd never know if Amber meant she'd had relationships, girlfriends, or if it'd been a one-off situation. Foreman wasn't going to pry. He knew how that would end: with Amber conducting her own inquisition into his romantic past. Considering how she'd reacted to meeting Shanelle, someone he'd only dated for a couple of weeks, and casually at that, Amber's reaction to learning about Claire, who he'd nearly married, was not likely to be something he wanted to weather. Not while they were still this fragile, and, God willing, not at all. Foreman would be keeping those cards close to his chest.
He took another bite, to at least pretend he was too busy eating to dignify Amber's teasing with a reply. His eyes tracked her tongue as she licked her lips, though, her mouth glistening even more, emphasizing her full pout, before she resorted to a napkin. Her question, after all that, came out of nowhere, and Foreman reached for his own napkin, frowning slightly and taking a swallow of coffee before he replied. "It's not the same," he said, breaking eye contact and looking down at the tabletop. There were a few grains of sugar on the laminate top, and Foreman pushed a trail through them with a fingertip. "At Mercy, I had my own team," he said. Who did what I told them to do, the subtext there, didn't need to be dwelled on. "I was teaching as much as anything. Here..." No one really wanted to hear what he had to say. House might trust him while he was busy fucking off, but when Foreman disagreed with him, House openly dismissed him and his opinions. "No one wants to learn from me," he said. "Why should they? I screwed up."
no subject
Foreman had to pause before he could swallow the mouthful of hashbrown he'd just chewed. Amber admitted it. The questions piled up in Foreman's brain like a ten-car crash on the Turnpike. No way was he going to ask a single one. The only way he'd get out of this with any dignity at all would be if he acted nonchalant. Maybe he'd never know if Amber meant she'd had relationships, girlfriends, or if it'd been a one-off situation. Foreman wasn't going to pry. He knew how that would end: with Amber conducting her own inquisition into his romantic past. Considering how she'd reacted to meeting Shanelle, someone he'd only dated for a couple of weeks, and casually at that, Amber's reaction to learning about Claire, who he'd nearly married, was not likely to be something he wanted to weather. Not while they were still this fragile, and, God willing, not at all. Foreman would be keeping those cards close to his chest.
He took another bite, to at least pretend he was too busy eating to dignify Amber's teasing with a reply. His eyes tracked her tongue as she licked her lips, though, her mouth glistening even more, emphasizing her full pout, before she resorted to a napkin. Her question, after all that, came out of nowhere, and Foreman reached for his own napkin, frowning slightly and taking a swallow of coffee before he replied. "It's not the same," he said, breaking eye contact and looking down at the tabletop. There were a few grains of sugar on the laminate top, and Foreman pushed a trail through them with a fingertip. "At Mercy, I had my own team," he said. Who did what I told them to do, the subtext there, didn't need to be dwelled on. "I was teaching as much as anything. Here..." No one really wanted to hear what he had to say. House might trust him while he was busy fucking off, but when Foreman disagreed with him, House openly dismissed him and his opinions. "No one wants to learn from me," he said. "Why should they? I screwed up."