Foreman's frown turned thoughtful as he walked forward at House's urging. Something about the decor of the place. Brickwork, chunky pillows, art on the walls: a few landscapes, but also a print of a woman looking over her shoulder at the camera, her arms wrapped around her knees. It looked one step above a college poster, but it was something that Thirteen had clearly brought along and cared enough to frame.
It wasn't any one thing. Maybe it was something about Thirteen herself. The way she'd become so attached to House's number nickname. The way she watched the rest of the candidates, not with Amber's open hostility, but with a certain cautious suspicion. She was trying so hard to become invisible that it practically screamed that there was something she was trying to hide. Which was exactly why House was interested, of course.
A lunch date, when she was new in town...it sounded like some sort of set-up. Guys preferred drinks, a bar, a movie. A date in the evening was more likely to lead straight back to someone's apartment. Women, though, liked coffee, lunches, places that were more open, less easily interpretable.
Foreman chuckled when the idea came to him. No wonder Thirteen hated the way House slapped labels on everyone he encountered, as if they could be judged on first impressions alone. He hated that himself. His own defense had taken a different turn, as he'd tried for the last three years to fit exactly into the box House expected of him. He grinned at House, who was still looking around as if there might be concrete evidence hidden under the bed or in the back of a cupboard. "You're not going to find anything," he said confidently.
no subject
It wasn't any one thing. Maybe it was something about Thirteen herself. The way she'd become so attached to House's number nickname. The way she watched the rest of the candidates, not with Amber's open hostility, but with a certain cautious suspicion. She was trying so hard to become invisible that it practically screamed that there was something she was trying to hide. Which was exactly why House was interested, of course.
A lunch date, when she was new in town...it sounded like some sort of set-up. Guys preferred drinks, a bar, a movie. A date in the evening was more likely to lead straight back to someone's apartment. Women, though, liked coffee, lunches, places that were more open, less easily interpretable.
Foreman chuckled when the idea came to him. No wonder Thirteen hated the way House slapped labels on everyone he encountered, as if they could be judged on first impressions alone. He hated that himself. His own defense had taken a different turn, as he'd tried for the last three years to fit exactly into the box House expected of him. He grinned at House, who was still looking around as if there might be concrete evidence hidden under the bed or in the back of a cupboard. "You're not going to find anything," he said confidently.