House was enjoying this unexpected glovebox treasure, still sporting a wide, satisfied grin, when Foreman turned his attention to his mirrors. Mirrors which needed no adjusting, since nobody had touched them since they'd been adjusted when they'd left the hospital.
He anticipated a snippy response, but he did not expect the one that flew out of Foreman's mouth. Whoa. Well, that was interesting, House thought, staring agape at Foreman, who refused to meet his wide, frozen-in-the-headlights gaze. Too bad, since Foreman would have undoubtedly wanted to snap a Polaroid for his locker. A souvenir of, House considered, probably the best comeback Foreman had ever delivered. Of course, he wasn't going to tell him that.
The thought, one that, surprisingly, had never really occurred to him before, of Foreman spontaneously making good use of one of his condoms--the images suddenly battled for space amongst the lesbian porn in his head--caused him to squirm in his seat. He gripped the condom tighter in his hand than he should have, and became uncomfortably aware of the shaft of his cane resting against the inside of his leg, his mind replacing it with a slightly different kind of hard wood, apparently feeling the need to remind him that he hadn't actually gotten laid--he hadn't been fucked--in a long time.
He knew that the longer he didn't talk, didn't one-up Foreman's remark, the worse it looked for him, and he scrambled to regain his footing. He made sure his voice was natural--as natural as he could make it--when he spoke, trying to call his bluff. "I don't know. Are you? Although, it should probably wait until after our stalking's over, don't you think?" He slipped the condoms into his jacket pocket, still looking over at Foreman, his curiosity piqued to dangerous levels. He wanted to know what Foreman knew, and how he knew, and why he'd been interested in the first place, if he knew anything at all.
"Restaurant's on Nassau. Right next to that florist on the right hand side. Park across the street."
no subject
He anticipated a snippy response, but he did not expect the one that flew out of Foreman's mouth. Whoa. Well, that was interesting, House thought, staring agape at Foreman, who refused to meet his wide, frozen-in-the-headlights gaze. Too bad, since Foreman would have undoubtedly wanted to snap a Polaroid for his locker. A souvenir of, House considered, probably the best comeback Foreman had ever delivered. Of course, he wasn't going to tell him that.
The thought, one that, surprisingly, had never really occurred to him before, of Foreman spontaneously making good use of one of his condoms--the images suddenly battled for space amongst the lesbian porn in his head--caused him to squirm in his seat. He gripped the condom tighter in his hand than he should have, and became uncomfortably aware of the shaft of his cane resting against the inside of his leg, his mind replacing it with a slightly different kind of hard wood, apparently feeling the need to remind him that he hadn't actually gotten laid--he hadn't been fucked--in a long time.
He knew that the longer he didn't talk, didn't one-up Foreman's remark, the worse it looked for him, and he scrambled to regain his footing. He made sure his voice was natural--as natural as he could make it--when he spoke, trying to call his bluff. "I don't know. Are you? Although, it should probably wait until after our stalking's over, don't you think?" He slipped the condoms into his jacket pocket, still looking over at Foreman, his curiosity piqued to dangerous levels. He wanted to know what Foreman knew, and how he knew, and why he'd been interested in the first place, if he knew anything at all.
"Restaurant's on Nassau. Right next to that florist on the right hand side. Park across the street."