"I could," Foreman said, holding back a grin, "but where's the fun in that?" He didn't insist, though, other than his arm brushing against House's. No one did get on the elevator, but he knew it wasn't unlikely. He'd prefer to get House out of the hospital without any further reasons for him to chicken out, and an interruption like that would probably stop them both cold.
They headed through the lobby shoulder to shoulder, as if it was just any other night and they happened to be leaving a little later. Foreman didn't say anything--he wasn't interested in delays--but he put himself a half-step ahead of House, where he could lead the way without seeming to. Fortunately, his parking space wasn't far from the doors--he'd finally insisted to Cuddy that he deserved at least that for reining House in for her--and he beeped open the doors from a distance, getting in and immediately starting the heat. Foreman glanced across at House and smirked for a moment. House could bitch all he wanted about some things, but Foreman was sure he wouldn't say a word against the comfort of Foreman's car, after he'd been so close to driving off on his bike without even wearing a jacket.
The only problem he had was deciding where they were headed. Either way, they'd have to drive to work together tomorrow. At House's place, Foreman wouldn't have a change of clothes, or a toothbrush. If he woke up early and went back to his place to get ready, House would probably accuse him of leaving, as if a trip to his apartment counted as vanishing out of House's life forever. At his place, there'd be the opposite problem, but at least Foreman could control to an extent what time they left in the morning--if they were going to walk in together, he'd prefer they weren't late when they did it, and tempt the fellows into making even more judgments and speculations. Foreman looked out the window for a moment after starting the car, wondering if he should ask or just assume. "My place has actual food," he said, letting the statement fall as half a question. He pulled out of the parking space and headed for the hospital entrance, presuming that that settled the matter.
no subject
They headed through the lobby shoulder to shoulder, as if it was just any other night and they happened to be leaving a little later. Foreman didn't say anything--he wasn't interested in delays--but he put himself a half-step ahead of House, where he could lead the way without seeming to. Fortunately, his parking space wasn't far from the doors--he'd finally insisted to Cuddy that he deserved at least that for reining House in for her--and he beeped open the doors from a distance, getting in and immediately starting the heat. Foreman glanced across at House and smirked for a moment. House could bitch all he wanted about some things, but Foreman was sure he wouldn't say a word against the comfort of Foreman's car, after he'd been so close to driving off on his bike without even wearing a jacket.
The only problem he had was deciding where they were headed. Either way, they'd have to drive to work together tomorrow. At House's place, Foreman wouldn't have a change of clothes, or a toothbrush. If he woke up early and went back to his place to get ready, House would probably accuse him of leaving, as if a trip to his apartment counted as vanishing out of House's life forever. At his place, there'd be the opposite problem, but at least Foreman could control to an extent what time they left in the morning--if they were going to walk in together, he'd prefer they weren't late when they did it, and tempt the fellows into making even more judgments and speculations. Foreman looked out the window for a moment after starting the car, wondering if he should ask or just assume. "My place has actual food," he said, letting the statement fall as half a question. He pulled out of the parking space and headed for the hospital entrance, presuming that that settled the matter.