When House heard a soft shuffle behind him, shoes against the floor, then the sound of Foreman's voice, his tone firm and quietly threatening, House had to suppress a smirk--he aimed to keep everyone's attention on Foreman, not himself, and if he was sporting a pleased smirk, one of them was bound to notice and pry. So Foreman did want to avoid talk of the weekend. House hadn't even mentioned Foreman, or his involvement, and wasn't exactly planning on it, but Foreman saved him the trouble of considering it. Just the mention of the weekend had made Foreman nervous, and House noticed that he wasn't the only one in the room who'd picked up on it; Brennan and Taub shot curious glances Foreman's way, and it filled House with smug satisfaction. Too bad he couldn't rub it in Foreman's face. Not now, anyway, but he actually hoped that he could later on, catch Foreman alone, the thought of avoiding the whole issue beginning to take a backseat to having something to hold over Foreman.
House nearly threw a folder at Kutner for opening his mouth, eagerly sharing the details of his weekend--if the file took off his head, it wouldn't be the biggest loss, House thought. But he couldn't tell Kutner to shut up without giving himself away, so he silently grumbled to himself, cursing Kutner for killing his brilliant set-up. He never thought that Foreman would stop Kutner--Kutner had nothing to tell that would remotely relate to him, unless Kutner fucked a colleague for the first time over the weekend, too, in which case House was very, very interested--but Foreman surprised him by speaking again.
Twisting around to look at Foreman, he caught the fleeting expression on Foreman's face and felt even more satisfied. He'd not only provoked Foreman, but Foreman knew it, just a few seconds too late. Turning back to Thirteen, dangling the file above her, he couldn't resist pushing a little more, wondering how much Foreman really wanted to avoid any mention of it, any hint of what had happened. "True, but how are we supposed to work as a team if we don't know each other," House said, falsely sincere, and glanced over his shoulder at Foreman, "right, Foreman?"
He extended the file back toward Thirteen, ready to pull it away again if she reached for it. "So about your weekend. Make any new friends?"
no subject
House nearly threw a folder at Kutner for opening his mouth, eagerly sharing the details of his weekend--if the file took off his head, it wouldn't be the biggest loss, House thought. But he couldn't tell Kutner to shut up without giving himself away, so he silently grumbled to himself, cursing Kutner for killing his brilliant set-up. He never thought that Foreman would stop Kutner--Kutner had nothing to tell that would remotely relate to him, unless Kutner fucked a colleague for the first time over the weekend, too, in which case House was very, very interested--but Foreman surprised him by speaking again.
Twisting around to look at Foreman, he caught the fleeting expression on Foreman's face and felt even more satisfied. He'd not only provoked Foreman, but Foreman knew it, just a few seconds too late. Turning back to Thirteen, dangling the file above her, he couldn't resist pushing a little more, wondering how much Foreman really wanted to avoid any mention of it, any hint of what had happened. "True, but how are we supposed to work as a team if we don't know each other," House said, falsely sincere, and glanced over his shoulder at Foreman, "right, Foreman?"
He extended the file back toward Thirteen, ready to pull it away again if she reached for it. "So about your weekend. Make any new friends?"