There was bread in House's fridge, along with the cold meats Foreman had found last night. A sandwich would be good enough to tide him over until he could go somewhere that had actual food. Eventually, the shower turned off. Foreman thought about heading straight back for the bedroom and waving House's alarm clock in his face, but he shook his head and kept working on the sandwich he was making instead. House would be out soon enough, and Foreman could confront him when he was dressed and marginally less defensive.
He poured himself a glass of water, and when turned back from the sink, House was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking supremely pissed off. Foreman didn't know if he was still angry at Wilson, or if it was the fact that Foreman had appropriated his clothes, but it didn't take long to find out.
Foreman ignored House's insinuation that he wanted to dress like him. He didn't mind dressing like this on weekends when it wasn't likely that he'd be going anywhere or seeing anyone, but he wasn't about to start showing up at work looking as disheveled as House did. Foreman might worry about whether his bedside manner was anything like House's, or if he took his patients into account instead of dismissing them all as liars, but in this area he knew he'd never be like House, and that suited him fine. "Uh, no," he said. He'd love to take advantage of House's reaction, point out exactly how defensive he was being considering he'd stolen Foreman's clothes before. It wasn't like the t-shirt was a loved one that Foreman was holding hostage. "You'll get it back when I have clean clothes."
Pulling out the stool under the kitchen counter, Foreman sat down with his sandwich. He'd left out the bread; House could join him if he wanted. Foreman didn't really care. "Does Wilson show up every morning when you stuff your alarm clock in your closet?" he asked, glaring at House. "Or was that a surprise you arranged just for me?"
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He poured himself a glass of water, and when turned back from the sink, House was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking supremely pissed off. Foreman didn't know if he was still angry at Wilson, or if it was the fact that Foreman had appropriated his clothes, but it didn't take long to find out.
Foreman ignored House's insinuation that he wanted to dress like him. He didn't mind dressing like this on weekends when it wasn't likely that he'd be going anywhere or seeing anyone, but he wasn't about to start showing up at work looking as disheveled as House did. Foreman might worry about whether his bedside manner was anything like House's, or if he took his patients into account instead of dismissing them all as liars, but in this area he knew he'd never be like House, and that suited him fine. "Uh, no," he said. He'd love to take advantage of House's reaction, point out exactly how defensive he was being considering he'd stolen Foreman's clothes before. It wasn't like the t-shirt was a loved one that Foreman was holding hostage. "You'll get it back when I have clean clothes."
Pulling out the stool under the kitchen counter, Foreman sat down with his sandwich. He'd left out the bread; House could join him if he wanted. Foreman didn't really care. "Does Wilson show up every morning when you stuff your alarm clock in your closet?" he asked, glaring at House. "Or was that a surprise you arranged just for me?"