There was no end to what House would do to try and get a reaction. At this rate, they'd be halfway through the intersection by the time the light changed, and the next car they'd see would be the one T-boning them at thirty miles an hour. "Would you just drive?" Foreman asked. "That's what you wanted." The driver behind them tapped his horn, and then pulled out around them and sped through the intersection, throwing a middle finger at House as he passed.

"Did you need some confirmation that you're annoying?" Foreman asked. He looked over at House again, trying to assess what the hell he wanted. They were already late. House had stopped pretending Foreman's car was a dragster. All that was left was getting a reaction out of him, and Foreman shook his head. He had no idea why that was important to House. House could see him annoyed any day of the week, over cases, over the way House treated his patients or his fellows at work. Foreman's irritation wasn't exactly a new thing for House. He slumped back in his seat, but his good mood was gradually seeping away as House imitated the travelling speed of a retreating glacier. "Did you need me to be annoyed? Because you're getting there."