House ignored Foreman's words--no burning ears this time, either--and refused to let Foreman deter him from reaching for the keys. He gritted his teeth when Foreman chuckled, aware that he must look like an idiot. "I'd have more fun with the car in 'drive'. Gimme." He stopped reaching, flexing his hand, not fully believing that Foreman would actually fork over the keys. This wasn't a case, a differential, a superior ordering a subordinate, and he had no doubt that Foreman would remind him of the equal ground they were walking here.

A few hand-flexes later, House threw himself back into his seat, glaring at Foreman for a moment before settling back, glancing from window to window. He tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel, switching tactics to drive Foreman's annoyance level through the roof, maybe get the keys back that way. "Fine, we'll sit." He started expanding his spontaneous drum-set to the dashboard, the door. "We can play 'name that tune'."