Foreman's chuckle was still echoing in House's head when House pulled the car away from the curb, easing onto the street slowly and letting Foreman believe he would behave behind the wheel. House had already played around with Foreman's mirrors and seat enough to earn him a split-second flash of uneasiness, and House was already starting to imagine the kind of reaction he'd get once he started showing Foreman exactly what his excuse for a car could do.
House didn't say a word as he drove down the street, and came to a full stop at the stop sign. Wouldn't even dream of warning Foreman for this. It would ruin the fun, diminish the shock, that 'about-to-piss-his-pants' look on Foreman's face. Too bad it would be hard to catch that look and drive at the same time, though it would hike up Foreman's stress level if he wasn't looking at the road. Oh, yeah. This was going to be good. He looked both ways, waiting until a car neared the intersection before peeling out onto the road, cutting off the other car, close enough to make the other driver lay on the horn. House gunned it, pressing the accelerator down to the floor. Watching, hearing, and feeling the RPMs jump higher, feeling his own little adrenaline rush at getting it up to 60 on a side street, probably at least 35 miles per hour over the limit. When he came to a screeching stop at a light, rubber smoking, the smell making it into the car, he rocked forward and backward with the abruptness of the stop, and turned to look at Foreman.
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House didn't say a word as he drove down the street, and came to a full stop at the stop sign. Wouldn't even dream of warning Foreman for this. It would ruin the fun, diminish the shock, that 'about-to-piss-his-pants' look on Foreman's face. Too bad it would be hard to catch that look and drive at the same time, though it would hike up Foreman's stress level if he wasn't looking at the road. Oh, yeah. This was going to be good. He looked both ways, waiting until a car neared the intersection before peeling out onto the road, cutting off the other car, close enough to make the other driver lay on the horn. House gunned it, pressing the accelerator down to the floor. Watching, hearing, and feeling the RPMs jump higher, feeling his own little adrenaline rush at getting it up to 60 on a side street, probably at least 35 miles per hour over the limit. When he came to a screeching stop at a light, rubber smoking, the smell making it into the car, he rocked forward and backward with the abruptness of the stop, and turned to look at Foreman.