Foreman's morning routine at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital didn't draw much attention quite so often. In fact, most people focused on their own routines; doctors swept in with coffee, nurses hustled to their respective patient rooms, patients trickled through the lobby... and at first, the change in Foreman's mornings was barely noticeable.

It started small; Foreman started showing up a little earlier and notably, walking through the hospital doors with someone at his side. The two doctors talked quietly as they came in through the double doors—nothing too obvious, but obvious enough for the neurologist's diagnostic team to pick up on it.

Foreman wasn't one to enjoy going to work, let alone walk in shoulder to shoulder with someone to said work—as if he didn't dread seeing House a mere half hour later. Yet now, every morning, his companion was there beside him, the two moving in easy stride—sometimes they talked in hushed voices, and sometimes they shared a small laugh or two that looked out of place on Foreman's usually guarded face that was usually accompanied by an unamused expression.

It wasn't just the one morning, either. Three days now, same thing; a man keeping pace beside the neurologist before splitting up at the elevators. Foreman would take his usual ride up and his companion headed off toward whatever floor he belonged to. There was a lack of touch—not even a goodbye kiss. Nothing anyone could point to. But still, people noticed—everyone noticed.. or, at least the important people noticed.

Curiosity lived behind whispers. Foreman had a reputation of being composed, sharp and not the sort of man you pried into or got too close with—Cameron herself noting how he'd keep her at a distance, as if not to let her get the wrong idea. So everyone speculated in silence; maybe he was a new nurse, or a medical student he was mentoring, an old friend he'd taken to seeing before work... everything, except lovers. Hell, nobody even dared to mutter the words. Well.. that was, until Chase did.

One morning in the diagnostics office, Chase leaned lazily in the doorway, eyes flicking from Foreman's paperwork to his companion, who had just stepped out to grab coffee. "So," Chase began, his tone curious but edged with mischief, "who's the new guy?"

Foreman didn't look up right away. Instead, he set his pen down carefully, as though weighing whether to acknowledge the question at all. Then, he glanced over, one brow raised. "What?"

"The dude you've been walking in with every morning," Chase clarified, a sly edge in his voice. "He's good-looking—unusually so.. you sure he isn't a woman like that one trans nurse?" The silence stretched a beat too long.

Foreman's jaw tightened, but there was no heat in it—only the measured patience of a man deciding exactly how much truth he was willing to let slip. Foreman looked up, face unreadable, eyebrow arched. Finally, he uttered; "Why do you care?" Chase shrugged in response, smirking faintly as he spun a pen between his fingers. Cameron looked up from her notes, intrigued but silent. Even House, sprawled across his chair with his cane tapping idly against the floor, lifted an eyebrow in faint amusement.

And then.. his companion came back with the coffee.