House stared at Foreman as he stepped forward, already nearly shouting about what he meant and didn't mean. House was trying to wrap his brain around it all; it had come out of nowhere. He steadied himself against the counter with one hand, trying to focus on Foreman enough to catch it all, hear it through the alcohol-haze. Was Foreman telling him that he mattered? That Foreman actually was interested? In him? When not long ago Foreman had said that he didn't need him? House couldn't form a real response before Foreman turned and braced himself against the counter. House didn't take his eyes off him, and he felt them widen with surprise when Foreman started talking again. Telling him about Nathan. Anything he'd need to know. Volunteering that information, even though Foreman knew House could and was fully capable of diving into it, using every bit of information to his advantage. House blinked, mouth hanging open a few moments after Foreman stopped talking.
"L.A.'s a long plane ride, and I've got a soft spot for lawyers," House finally said, not quite joking, veiling the meaning behind what he'd said, even sharing a little of his own information while he was at it. He owed Foreman that much. I don't give a damn about Nathan. House looked down at his feet, at the floor, and bounced his cane as he chewed on his lip, trying not to let the guilt get to him. He felt like an idiot. He was an idiot. Foreman hadn't taken the God damn card. Even if Foreman had planned to meet Marty behind House's bad, and had done it to piss him off, Foreman hadn't shown an interest in Marty--that much was clear. And Foreman hadn't taken Nathan's card. Hadn't called. Hadn't, as far as he knew, tried to get in contact since their blow-up in the street. He wasn't going to apologize, because this wouldn't have happened if Foreman had never planned that dinner with Marty; this was ultimately not his fault, but it was a little easier to release a little of his conviction that Foreman was going to take a renewed interest in Nathan. Foreman told him, given him all the information he needed, and wasn't hiding. He was trusting him with it.
House drew a deep breath to try to get rid of his anger about Marty, about the dinner. It was still there, but he could ignore it easier now. "For the record," House said, not making a move forward or backward--safer to stay where he was, "you never said you were interested." House paused for a second, glancing up quickly before looking down again, shrugging. "In me."
House realized how idiotic that sounded, and it was what finally caused him to move. He stepped forward, heading past Foreman and toward the door. "Forget it," he said, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter."
no subject
"L.A.'s a long plane ride, and I've got a soft spot for lawyers," House finally said, not quite joking, veiling the meaning behind what he'd said, even sharing a little of his own information while he was at it. He owed Foreman that much. I don't give a damn about Nathan. House looked down at his feet, at the floor, and bounced his cane as he chewed on his lip, trying not to let the guilt get to him. He felt like an idiot. He was an idiot. Foreman hadn't taken the God damn card. Even if Foreman had planned to meet Marty behind House's bad, and had done it to piss him off, Foreman hadn't shown an interest in Marty--that much was clear. And Foreman hadn't taken Nathan's card. Hadn't called. Hadn't, as far as he knew, tried to get in contact since their blow-up in the street. He wasn't going to apologize, because this wouldn't have happened if Foreman had never planned that dinner with Marty; this was ultimately not his fault, but it was a little easier to release a little of his conviction that Foreman was going to take a renewed interest in Nathan. Foreman told him, given him all the information he needed, and wasn't hiding. He was trusting him with it.
House drew a deep breath to try to get rid of his anger about Marty, about the dinner. It was still there, but he could ignore it easier now. "For the record," House said, not making a move forward or backward--safer to stay where he was, "you never said you were interested." House paused for a second, glancing up quickly before looking down again, shrugging. "In me."
House realized how idiotic that sounded, and it was what finally caused him to move. He stepped forward, heading past Foreman and toward the door. "Forget it," he said, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter."