When House was dressed, he leaned back in the chair, looking up to see Foreman approaching. House glanced up as Foreman bent over him and sniffed. Sniffed at his head. House waited, gritting his teeth, for Foreman to make some kind of remark. Laugh at him. Anything. Something he could use. But a moment later, Foreman shrugged and left the room. No words. Barely a laugh. House blinked at the open doorway. What a bastard. What a neat-freak, mango-shampoo-stashing bastard. It took a moment for House to start moving, grabbing hold of his cane. "That's it?" he shouted, starting for the kitchen, where Foreman was already creating enough noise to give his location away.
House glared at Foreman from the doorway for a second, trying to ignore how that damn mango smell had caught up to him and seemed to engulf him in a cloud of scent. Christ, why did no other shampoos seem to do this? He breathed through his mouth, catching as little of the scent as possible, and slowly stepped forward. He didn't stop until he was inches away from Foreman, peering over Foreman's left shoulder, and reached around to Foreman's front. House didn't have much in the way of words he could use against Foreman, since Foreman hadn't even spoken a word, so he went for old-fashioned physical schoolyard retaliation. "This," House said, flicking his hand and tapping Foreman's crotch, hard enough to know that it would make Foreman flinch and clench his teeth but not double over in pain, "is for making your bed with hospital corners. Who the hell does that?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-04-25 09:08 am (UTC)House glared at Foreman from the doorway for a second, trying to ignore how that damn mango smell had caught up to him and seemed to engulf him in a cloud of scent. Christ, why did no other shampoos seem to do this? He breathed through his mouth, catching as little of the scent as possible, and slowly stepped forward. He didn't stop until he was inches away from Foreman, peering over Foreman's left shoulder, and reached around to Foreman's front. House didn't have much in the way of words he could use against Foreman, since Foreman hadn't even spoken a word, so he went for old-fashioned physical schoolyard retaliation. "This," House said, flicking his hand and tapping Foreman's crotch, hard enough to know that it would make Foreman flinch and clench his teeth but not double over in pain, "is for making your bed with hospital corners. Who the hell does that?"