House sneered at Foreman's remark. Yeah, he figured that he hadn't 'broken any records', since Foreman was good looking and sharp enough to get a relationship if he wanted one, but, as far as House knew, he hadn't wanted one. Not seriously enough to pursue one that lasted more than a couple weeks. Foreman would probably be able to keep it a secret if he had--it seemed theirs was a case in point--but Foreman hadn't been good at keeping secrets from him, and if House had a reason to think something was up in Foreman's personal life--which it rarely was--he would have found out. He might not have broken records, but he might if things kept going the way they were. But it wasn't something he really wanted to mull over. All he knew was that, whether Foreman wanted to admit it or not, they were both having some great sex, and getting into arguments like this was old hat. Which, in a way, it was.

House tilted his head, refused to be ruffled by Foreman's burst of anger, and chose to use it for his own amusement instead. "It seemed like the most appropriate place to put you," House said, smirking, half-preparing for a stronger outburst, or an eye-roll. Either would be typical. Instead, he got Foreman, shirtless, shoving his shirt against his chest. His eyes dropped down to Foreman's chest before he could stop himself, then rose back to Foreman's face. Despite what Foreman actually said, it seemed like there was something else bothering him despite the fact that he'd been shoved into a closet. House watched him for a second, trying to read Foreman's tone better. "Do you not want to hide it?"