Before anyone answered, House heard the sound of the door opening and glanced over his shoulder to see Foreman strutting into the room, straight-backed and squared-shouldered. The picture of confident authority. House nearly scoffed out loud, but he bit it back and watched Foreman walk to the desk, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze until Foreman glanced away.
He kept his own gaze focused on Foreman as he followed Foreman's path towards the desk, his eyes taking in the smooth, unwrinkled fabric of Foreman's shirt, a tie that matched so perfectly House would have sworn Foreman bought them as a set, and an equally neat and unwrinkled suit, and House struggled not to admire, to think about what was under all of those expensive designer clothes. Foreman looked as put-together as ever, too put-together, too collected. As much as House wanted to forget about everything that transpired over the last couple days, his curiosity was pulling at him. Foreman's professionalism wasn't unusual--Foreman usually tried harder than most to come off looking good and authoritative, especially lately--but House could detect more distance from Foreman than usual, as if Foreman was trying to be as distant and professional as possible. Avoid. Foreman wanted to avoid him, because he had been thinking about the weekend. House knew he wasn't imagining it, but he felt compelled to test it, know for sure if Foreman was keeping this quiet because he wanted to avoid any mention of the weekend, anything to do with him.
Forcing himself to look away, set Wilson's-lunch-but-soon-to-be-his-breakfast on the desk, and crept behind it to Foreman, House's eyes focused on the stack of files he'd placed there when he'd arrived. He could practically feel Foreman's aloofness as he stepped closer, stealing the files out his hands. House only knew one way to test his theory, and if it produced results, he was willing to risk exposing his own part in what happened over the weekend, especially if it got a significant rise out of Foreman, either now or later.
"Okay, everyone gets a file," House said, tucking the folders against his arm. He moved across the room to Thirteen, extending a file in her direction. When she reached for it, he raised it up and away from her and, with a staged, falsely-friendly smile, said, "But first, let's all share what we did over the weekend with the class. Doesn't that sound like fun? Get to know each other a little better as colleagues."
no subject
He kept his own gaze focused on Foreman as he followed Foreman's path towards the desk, his eyes taking in the smooth, unwrinkled fabric of Foreman's shirt, a tie that matched so perfectly House would have sworn Foreman bought them as a set, and an equally neat and unwrinkled suit, and House struggled not to admire, to think about what was under all of those expensive designer clothes. Foreman looked as put-together as ever, too put-together, too collected. As much as House wanted to forget about everything that transpired over the last couple days, his curiosity was pulling at him. Foreman's professionalism wasn't unusual--Foreman usually tried harder than most to come off looking good and authoritative, especially lately--but House could detect more distance from Foreman than usual, as if Foreman was trying to be as distant and professional as possible. Avoid. Foreman wanted to avoid him, because he had been thinking about the weekend. House knew he wasn't imagining it, but he felt compelled to test it, know for sure if Foreman was keeping this quiet because he wanted to avoid any mention of the weekend, anything to do with him.
Forcing himself to look away, set Wilson's-lunch-but-soon-to-be-his-breakfast on the desk, and crept behind it to Foreman, House's eyes focused on the stack of files he'd placed there when he'd arrived. He could practically feel Foreman's aloofness as he stepped closer, stealing the files out his hands. House only knew one way to test his theory, and if it produced results, he was willing to risk exposing his own part in what happened over the weekend, especially if it got a significant rise out of Foreman, either now or later.
"Okay, everyone gets a file," House said, tucking the folders against his arm. He moved across the room to Thirteen, extending a file in her direction. When she reached for it, he raised it up and away from her and, with a staged, falsely-friendly smile, said, "But first, let's all share what we did over the weekend with the class. Doesn't that sound like fun? Get to know each other a little better as colleagues."