Foreman pressed his palm hard against his thigh. Amber's hand was warm, covering his, but that didn't stop him from tensing his shoulders, until it felt like his spine had become a bar of hot iron. "It's about me," he said. He couldn't believe that she didn't see that. He wasn't being given a chance. It'd either be Amber's relatives falling over backwards to prove that they could be fair, patting themselves on the back when they asked him about politics or news that they'd assume he was an expert on; or else it'd be a matter of them setting their jaws and mechanically going through the motions, without ever once seeing him. The medical degree would help with that. So would a suit. But the last thing they'd be seeing was Eric Foreman. He, himself, that's what they'd be missing. "That's exactly what it's about."
His voice was cool, because yeah, the angry black man didn't play, he knew that. With a conscious effort, as if he was pushing past one of House's taunts, Foreman set it aside, the whole situation. Of course foreshadowing helped. When this kind of shit didn't come out of fucking nowhere, he was able to have his defenses up, to act calm and collected and disaffected. He'd gotten used to leaving those barriers down around Amber. Well, her mother had fired the first shot, gotten past his shields. Now he just needed time to repair the damage. "Don't worry, I won't be controversial," he said. They could have Dr. Foreman, who'd never lost his temper in a professional setting, who could chuckle at whatever jokes a room full of people thought were funny, who nodded amiably whenever some wit said, ah, no offense, of course. Of course. None taken.
Foreman inhaled, held his breath for a second, and then let it out again, concentrating on the flow of air. Amber was quiet--upset, he noticed, when he let his gaze flick towards her. That he'd been sarcastic about her family, probably. They might be oblivious jackasses, but she loved them, obviously. He hadn't even met them and was already making judgements. "I'm sorry," he said, only slightly stiffly. "I know it's the first time you've brought a guy home." He wouldn't apologize for being 'difficult'. That was certainly not his problem. But that didn't mean he wasn't sorry the situation would be hard on her.
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His voice was cool, because yeah, the angry black man didn't play, he knew that. With a conscious effort, as if he was pushing past one of House's taunts, Foreman set it aside, the whole situation. Of course foreshadowing helped. When this kind of shit didn't come out of fucking nowhere, he was able to have his defenses up, to act calm and collected and disaffected. He'd gotten used to leaving those barriers down around Amber. Well, her mother had fired the first shot, gotten past his shields. Now he just needed time to repair the damage. "Don't worry, I won't be controversial," he said. They could have Dr. Foreman, who'd never lost his temper in a professional setting, who could chuckle at whatever jokes a room full of people thought were funny, who nodded amiably whenever some wit said, ah, no offense, of course. Of course. None taken.
Foreman inhaled, held his breath for a second, and then let it out again, concentrating on the flow of air. Amber was quiet--upset, he noticed, when he let his gaze flick towards her. That he'd been sarcastic about her family, probably. They might be oblivious jackasses, but she loved them, obviously. He hadn't even met them and was already making judgements. "I'm sorry," he said, only slightly stiffly. "I know it's the first time you've brought a guy home." He wouldn't apologize for being 'difficult'. That was certainly not his problem. But that didn't mean he wasn't sorry the situation would be hard on her.