House's anger climbed higher with each passing quiet moment. It should have been hotter, Foreman in his shirt, but after Wilson's surprise visit, and House didn't want to take much in beyond the fact that more of his privacy had been invaded, and Foreman has chosen a shirt that actually had value to him. Not that he'd start gushing about it, and it was none of Foreman's business, but the sooner he had it back the better. Hell, the sooner he had some space the better.

"Great, so get out," House said, gritting the words through his teeth as he stepped forward and grabbed Foreman's arm to try to jerk him out of his seat. He stopped and stared down at Foreman when he brought up the alarm clock. Great, so he had found it, and wasn't going to bitch about it. Perfect.

"I'd really love to hear more of your whiny bitching, but I have to go to work." House tried to nudge Foreman out of the kitchen again and, hopefully toward the door. He wanted his damn shirt back, and Foreman had been in his space long enough. He was starting to feel like he couldn't get any peace in his own damn apartment. He didn't care about work. As far as he was concerned, there was none to be done, but he'd rather be there than have his space invaded for much longer. Plus, he'd be able to get his mind off of all this, hopefully avoid Wilson while he was at it. Maybe Cuddy would banish him to the clinic for the day. Jesus, he was really fucked if he was already wishing for clinic duty, but he couldn't deal with anyone else in his face right now. "My shirt better be in my desk, and not on you, before I go home later."