Foreman's head jerked up the second he heard House's voice bellowing his name. His heart dropped into his stomach, and the first thing he felt was a wave of guilt for being out with Marty. House was barreling down on them, resentment written on his face even though it looked like he was trying to hide it. Before House had stuffed himself into the booth, pinning Marty between them, Foreman's guilt had vanished and anger had taken its place. He couldn't even have one damn meal with a friend that House didn't know about. House would pick tonight to finally break his smug silence, or whatever the hell a week of ignoring Foreman completely rated as. He got that House was jealous--from the way House was glaring at Marty, and his question about whether Marty was his boyfriend, that was more than obvious--but he'd already told House it was ridiculous. If Foreman didn't feel like clarifying that Marty wasn't his new boyfriend because his new boyfriend was currently making an ass of himself at their table, it was only because he didn't feel like using the word 'boyfriend' about House at all. Especially right now.

Marty glanced between the two of them, and if he noticed Foreman's anger, it only made his smile that much more strained. "Hi, Greg," he said, still trying to hold onto the shreds of his affability. He looked like he hoped Foreman was going to save him; Foreman was too infuriated to tell him that he couldn't even save himself. "This isn't about a job. I thought Eric would have told you--"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Foreman interrupted. He barely bit back the words I thought you were too damn busy to think of me, and instead, he shook his head in disgust. "As if I couldn't figure that out."