civanguneri

[civanguneri]

For a brief moment Civan allowed the conversation to veer into unfamiliar territory, a distraction. "Antalya, Turkey." Another aspect of his inherent privilege in life, his father had been a long-standing name in the cities booming tourist industry. It made making connections outside of their extended family when moving to America financially viable, with little disruptions to the lifestyle Civan had been raised in. Fathers always had a way of softening the surgeon a bit. Regret ate away silently at his stomach, "I was young when we moved but not so much so that I don't... remember it all a great deal." Miss it, more like, but that seemed like a more emotionally vulnerable response than he was willing to offer her. "Don't think about that too much yet," he found himself amending, though he was silently thankful she clearly had somewhat of a built-in support system. Civan had brought it up, but the way tension retook the line of the woman's slender shoulders made him feel a hint of immediate remorse. The talk of after-care could wait. "Nothing to thank me for." He dismissed, but a faint smile betrayed his features. Thankful for the small gesture of her clarifying his name. "Güneri," with emphasis on the u, he repeated his family name. "You don't have to stay here for the night," he tried to offer after an elongated beat of silence. "If you want to leave the car in the parking lot for someone else," her mother perhaps. "Myself or one of the nurses can call you a cab." Vanna's family was peppered around, surely able to offer a ride as well, but he could understand that may not be quite so appealing after a long emotionally raw day.

Her gaze softened, her attention pulling towards the rambunctious mutters of her family members on the other side of the room. Energies settled, and people were eating. There was some gossiping on the side, and a few of the kids did their homework while sitting on the floor, placing their paperwork on the chairs. In the midst of her circumstances, Vanna realized she had failed to see her family this way, at least for a while. It was easy to get swept in old wounds. Vanna, even in her mid-thirties, felt like a misunderstood teenager at times now that she was back at home. She felt her shoulders ease up a little, turning back to him with a grateful look in her eye. She clears her throat. "I suppose you're right."

She listened to his answer, an awe of sorts escaping her to learn that she had just unlocked personal information about her father's doctor. A soft smile escaped her, humming to show she understood. "And where are you from?" she can't help but ask, curious about a place that favors sweets. Then, his next question earned him a raised brow, her head tilting with her full attention. Learning that their trip to the ER was due to poor choices felt like an understatement, and just imagining trying to get her father to be any other way brought that heavy weight back down on her again.

She let out a heavy sigh, looking away for a moment. "Yeah," she manages to say, turning back to face him. "I figured." There's already a feeling of internal dread churning within her when Vanna hears her aunties laughing in the corner of the room. Her brows creased, and she let out a heavy sigh. "It'll be a community effort," she says with a shrug, waving a hand as if to say 'maybe, probably.' "Thank you, Dr. Gu—" Vanna's brows knit together, pausing. "How do you pronounce your last name?" she asks, gesturing to his ID.

[civanguneri]

Sleep-deprived, as was the norm, Civan had drifted off at some point on the couch with a book still open on his chest. An unpleasant scene played out, a mixture of fact and fiction, and it made the ding-dong chime of his doorbell all the more jarring. The man lurched up awkwardly, propped on his elbows, the book he'd fallen asleep with fell to the floor with a thud and he squinted accusingly into the emptiness of his living room. It took a few elongated moments for reality to settle back in around him, and another chime of the bell. Civan heaved a sigh as he peeled his heavy frame from the comfort of his furniture to go see who in the hell was bothering him this time around. His eyes still a little fogged with sleep, hair mussed, as he cracked the door open and glared out. "What?" he croaked with a rasp. Recognition came belatedly, and it left the man to blink a few times at the familiar face stood his opposite. His agitation quick to diminish. "Oh. It's you. Did you text me?" Confused he took a step back and held the door open for Alara, his free hand having moved to absently rub sleep from his face. Groggy didn't quite equate to not being alert enough to pettily tease her, "I still don't keep alcohol in the house, just as a heads up."

starter for: @civanguneri location: civan's place

Ramadan had always been Alara's father's favorite time of year. Between it and Yilbasi, the first three months of the year were always a special time in the Kaplan family. This year had been different, painfully so. After sabotaging nearly all of her relationships with her family on New Year's and Yilbasi, Alara had spent most of Ramadan alone, reflecting on her actions recently and the the way she had treated those she loved most.

So, after a month of agonizing over her own guilt, she finally decided to take action. And first on that list was Civan. Heading to his place laden with all their favorite snacks and a six pack of kombucha, she mentally prepared herself to do something that had never come easy for Alara. Apologize.

Ringing his doorbell, she waited at his door, wondering just how much groveling she was going to need to do tonight.

[civanguneri]

"It's..." his nose twitched, quietly amused but taking some very light offense. "White, beige, grey, black, with plants and some wood trim... big windows..." modern and sleek. The only real pop of color was green, from the plants and what you could see through the large windows. It had a lot of natural light. "Burnt orange?" His brows furrowed, not exactly thrilled at the idea of adding in any accent walls. "What if I get... a carpet? Colorful throw pillows?" That seemed more amendable. Everything else was brushed aside for now, willing to let their debate and differing perspectives quietly live on without address. "I must admit, if it would get me in trouble I wouldn't offer." Civan wasn't a risk taker. At work he tended to staunchly follow the rules. "So, we're good." No one would care, and he didn't imagine they'd even run into anyone else. There was no such thing as a cohesive 'lunch time' in the hospital. "This way," he nodded his head aside and guided their steps towards a nearby stairwell. Civan only stopped long enough to grab some extra napkins and the like from a station before they headed off. The man wasn't always the most talkative soul, but having company was nice. Today, anyway. When otherwise his mind might wander and sour his mood. His offer to Elsie was admittedly at least somewhat self-serving. "This might be arrogant," Civan posed as he easily went up the stairwell. A door held open for the blonde at the top, "but you know... if you ever need anything handled here, with your mother, you can talk to me about it." He couldn't handle her care plan personally, it wasn't his specialty, but he was there long enough to have sway. If they were facing any problems with staff, he felt inclined to at least hint that he would be happy to amend any added difficulties.

Elsie flashed him a feigned apologetic look that was more teasing than anything. Civan had been hard to read for a while but she wanted to think that perhaps she'd cracked the code that was the surgeon, at least partly. For all intents and purposes, she imagined that if she had truly insulted him, he would have made it unmistakable and ensured Elsie was aware. "Not all white? So white and beige?" The blonde grimaced while awaiting confirmation but her features spoke the disappointment and tinge of disgust at the lack of personality and color. She was far from being an interior designer but she liked to believe that the idea of white and beige had to be immoral in some way. "I will come visit and bring paint. Maybe some burnt orange?"

Another apologetic look flashed from her features but this one was far more real than the previous one. God hadn't ever existed in her world despite the many times her parents had hoped she would join them in their own version of worshipping. But she would never judge, and horrors were witnessed within hospitals so she would understand the need to be unburdened by some higher being. "You have a point." Children had been so far out of her mind that she'd forgotten about the labor rooms. Bad things could happen there too but she couldn't deny the magic that shined brighter.

Her mouth parted as if to indicate that uncomfortable wasn't the right word but she stopped herself when she couldn't come up with another replacement word that fit as well. These halls did make her uncomfortable. "Please, I'd love to see the hidden spots. As long as you won't get in trouble for it."

[civanguneri]

"The housewives?" Civan echoed with what could only be very genuine confusion, which in and of itself easily answered her question. He did not. The dig about cleaning his kitchen was lost on him, easily ignored. Civan was a 'clean as you go' sort of man. There was barely ever any mess to clean. Well, not his own anyway, what Tanvi left in her wake was an entirely different discussion. "I... do not understand the appeal of most reality television programs." He admitted with a stiff shrug of his shoulders. A glance spared her way as they meandered the grocery aisles for dinner supplies. "The survivalist ones, maybe." Even then, they played out more like a soap opera than he'd like to sit through. Civan had not been inviting her exactly, but he hadn't not been. So it seemed easier to just accept his fate, assure Lia ate something of actual sustenance, and say yes. "Yes." With that in mind, he pulled the spice container back out of her cart. A mental note to return it before they headed to check out. "I can try to see what you're so fascinated with, I suppose." It wasn't the most eager response, but she was used to that by now with him. A quiet stiff acceptance of her eager eccentricity. "You... consider making an alcoholic beverage a replacement for a meal?" He echoed, a concerned judgmental brow arched as he shot another look over his shoulder at her. "Well, if you want a drink with dinner you'll have to get something while we are here. My home is dry." He wouldn't partake, of course, but he never minded when others did in his presence. Civan even kept a few things around for some of his favorite mocktails, because it seemed to make others more comfortable sometimes if he made himself something too.

"You've never watched it? Civvy, please." Holding a hand to her chest in mock horror, Lia shook her head as if she couldn't comprehend what was going on. "You're going to tell me you don't know who any of the housewives are as well, aren't you? This is almost too horrible to bear." Fanning her face as she pretended to hold back tears, Lia took a dramatic deep breath before dropping the act. "You've honestly never lost yourself in a reality show binge? Are you too busy cleaning your kitchen?"

Wiggling her eyebrows at him as he turned around, Lia chuckled quietly. "Competition still means I'm near the top and there was no denial that I might be at top spot, so I'll take that and run." Pushing the cart forward to get a little closer to him as he threw something else into it for her to take home. "Are you inviting me over for dinner? Would you like me to introduce you to the housewives?" Rolling her eyes a little, Lia's head turned towards the shelves, picking something up that she vaguely recognised before tossing it into her cart. "I'm just busy and I'd much rather make margaritas. Besides, I only didn't buy it because my mom kitted my house out with the essentials before I came home, I wasn't in much of a state to think about my kitchen cupboards when I got back."

[civanguneri]

His thick brows knitted together, confusion etched into his features as his gaze swept over her. Unable to help the impulse to double check they'd done a passable job on her stitches. "You don't need to apologize to me." Ever. His thumb absently brushed along her jaw, affectionately cradling her face with concern until Tanvi pulled back. His hand dropped, head tipped aside as he blinked down at her. "I don't care about that," his tone was clipped, firm. "I'd rather be called." It was dumb, of course, but aside from his genuine concern there was a faint hint of jealous annoyance at the idea that she'd make someone else her emergency contact. That Tanvi might trust someone over him. Worse than that though was the thought that if he hadn't been, if the nurse hadn't called him, he might not even know that she'd been hurt. That bothered him. One of his brows arched and for a second, Civan almost smiled. Of course she'd injured herself doing something so terribly mundane. "I see." Was all he managed, any further commentary cut off by the distraction that was her attempt to stand. His arm automatically moved to help steady her. Even as Tanvi's hand dropped, one of his moved to the small of her back, worried sharp blues looked down between them. Silently making sure that she seemed steady on her feet. "It should just be a minute now, for the paperwork." This time, Tanvi's disgruntled nickname for the nurse elicited a bit of a gruff chuckle. He was not pleased with the woman either. Though, for entirely different reasons. "Then we can go..." he shot a look over his shoulder, back towards the door for a second. On the whole, Civan wouldn't claim to be any good at reading people but he liked to think he was at least somewhat decent at doing so when it came to her. Pensive, he chewed on his bottom lip. Trying to decide why Tanvi seemed reluctant to have called him, or to have him stood there fussing. She liked her independence, but, he couldn't help the feeling there was something else. "I'd prefer if you came home with me."

"Tabitha." The older nurses' name left Tanvi's lips like a curse, frown pulling the corner of her lips downward as the admission that she'd been waiting for her emergency contact to show up. She'd been sure that she'd charmed the older woman out of the repeated 'concussion protocol' excuse Tabitha kept giving her as to why she couldn't simply be discharged on her own. It's not like she was driving. She lived close. She'd even tried to appease with old nurse with a compromise- she wouldn't walk home and she'd call an Uber. Even share the ride with her to show she'd made it home alright. And Tanvi had thought all of her begging, her wide eyes, pathetic pout, had worked when Tabby left the room. Sure, she'd expected the waiting, she'd make someone as stubborn as her wait, too... but she hadn't expected Civan.

A tired sigh leaving her lips, Tanvi couldn't stop herself from instinctively leaning into Civan's touch, chasing the familiar warmth. "Sorry." She muttered, jaw tensing as she blinked back a wave of emotion she hadn't expected. Maybe this concussion thing was more serious than she'd given it credit for after all. Clearing her throat, she spoke. "I should probably change my emergency contact, huh? Made sense since you were supposed to be here already, but... I only seem to get hurt when you're off duty." Chuckling lightly, the private investigator leaned back, away from his touch. She was supposed to be mad at him for something, wasn't she?

"I fell." It was a simple answer, sure, but it was also an honest one. "Someone really needs to do something about those planters outside of restaurants that just come out of nowhere." Offering him a tight lipped smile, Tanvi slid off of the bed and back to her still unsteady feet, hand coming up to grip his arm for a moment until she regained her balance before letting go. "Can I go now that you're her? Or is ol' Tabby going to keep holding me hostage?"

[civanguneri]

"Periorbital hyperpigmentation is common among medical professionals, it has nothing to do with my personality." According to some, his insides were all mush anyway, but hell would freeze over before that was a claim Civan himself would make. Even if perhaps Princess carrying Sahra around might make sound evidence. A loud, huffed exhale answered her mention of their mothers. His eyes rolled skyward again for good measure, immediately exasperated. Though, this time the sentiment wasn't necessarily directed at her. "I am not lonesome." Civan amended stiffly. Absolutely not intending to clarify his semi-complicated relationship status with Sahra. "My Anne just... worries, unnecessarily." That coupled with his extreme difficulty in saying no to her, meant he was on occasion set up on the world's most awkward dates. It wasn't like he could quite sit down at a table, introduce himself, and immediately say 'Sorry i'm not interested, i'm just humoring my mother.' The topic lingered in his thoughts as a silence drifted between them, broken by her theatrics over the door. He expected little else. "Half the work?" Civan quirked a brow, ignoring the odd looks they garnished as he walked in carrying a barefoot Sahra. "Fine." He agreed with ease, not really caring. Financially he tended to be unfussed with adhering to others whims. At least, those he cared for. He wasn't great at things like words of affirmation, he strayed towards gift giving as a means of showing his affection. If he didn't personally know the cafe's owner since childhood, Civan might've felt at least a twinge of regret for their current state but — given the knowledge Leyla would probably just laugh, he remained undeterred. Luckily, there were only two people ahead of them in line. "What kind?" He asked, a nod offered towards the nearby display case of fresh aromatic baked goods.

"Lady." She doubled down with a nod, her lips twitching a bit as she fought the grin threatening to spread across her face. She probably enjoyed getting beneath Civan's skin a little too much, but she'd been doing it for most of their lives and there was no point in stopping now. Even when she was legitimately concerned for his well being. He may have brushed off the bags beneath his eyes but even Sahra knew the depth of the shadows was unusual for the doctor. "Of all things." She mocked, eyes rolling. "I guess with an attitude like yours, your exterior finally matching that interior was bound to happen eventually."

At the admission of his distaste for the nickname, a mischievous grin overtook her features, a playful glint in her eyes as she tilted her head to look at him. "I don't care. But I thought you'd have known better by now to tell me you don't like something..." Despite his tone, Sahra's grin finally broke through her restraint and she beamed up at him. "Daddy Warbucks." A smug smirk on her features now, pleased with herself for her defiance, she laid her head back down on his shoulder- completely content. "Has it though? Because if you listen to any of the parents around here, especially our annes, it's done absolutely nothing for you since you're still a lonesome bachelor." Her tone was teasing but really, she couldn't say much. With a little over seven months having passed since her ended engagement, those very mothers had turned their matchmaking sights on her. And she hated it.

Turning her head to hide it in his shoulder as she snorted a laugh, the brunette shook her head. "No, we absolutely can not. It'd simply ruin my cold hearted reputation, here." She mused, though she settled quietly in to his embrace as he carried her to the coffee shop. Despite Sahra's constant need for incessant chatter, she could be quiet. Even if the quiet left her feeling slightly unsettled on most occasions. However, Civan was the first to break their quiet little bubble and she couldn't help the smirk that took over her features as he asked for her help. "Hmm...." She mused, stretching an arm out and acting like she couldn't reach the handle. "I don't know. It's just so far..." Wiggling her fingers, biting back more laughing, Sahra pretended to struggle for another moment before finally obliging and grasping the handle to pull the door open. "Now I get a muffin and a cake pop. Since I've had to do half the work."

[civanguneri]

The faint hint of a scuffed snort died in his nose, "Not sure about the latter, we won't be pulling any Dirty Dancing routines out of thin air." He was not that good. Civan had just been raised with a touch of old school manners, not that most would presume so given how stiff he was with it all. His Anne most certainly tried to raise a gentleman, though, instead she got a surgeon. A methodical perfectionist. "Brooding?" Civan echoed the word, a slow questioning brow arched over his sharp blue gaze. "I do not brood." He most certainly did. The man himself however liked to think of himself as more indifferent than unhappy. Not that anyone with his ability to swiftly, fiercely anger could ever truly classify as indifferent. "I will not pretend to be a fan of the attention, but the company isn't bad." Perhaps it was arrogant, but, all the same Civan had gotten used to having eyes on him. His family left an impact, and he had a reputation. Briar Ridge talked.

This moment was tolerable, though, it was tempting to still try and steal a glance around the crowded ballroom for a sign of Alara. The fretting didn't quite dissolve entirely, it never did. "You do that." A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. The hand at the small of her back adjusted, and he quietly led her in smooth easy rhythmic circles for a few peaceful moments. Then, he heard it... somehow, even in the crowded bustling ballroom he'd caught the nearby sharp curt curse that could only come from the very friend he was supposed to be babysitting. And was that, perhaps, Selin too? The pseudo older brother in him was immediately on high alert. Tense, but thankful that the song was dwindling to an appropriate close. "I..." his brows furrowed, genuinely a little bit torn. Abruptly aware that it was rude to ditch her so suddenly, especially when Natalie had been an unexpected bright spot in contrast to his run-in with a tipsy spiteful Nia. "Thank you, for this. Hopefully you will forgive me, but I need to go check on someone." At least he'd already told Natalie that the reason he was still lingering at the New Year's Eve Bash that night at all was for the sake of his friend in question, so, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Civan took a step back and let her hand slowly drop before he let it go.

Natalie laughed again, her gaze flicking to the curious onlookers around them as they settled into the rhythm of the dance. There was a slight thrill to the way Civan led her—sure and steady, his presence somehow both grounding and freeing at the same time. The ballroom around them seemed to blur, the sounds of whispered conversations and distant clinks of glasses growing faint in comparison to the steady pulse of the music.

His question about the photograph brought a mischievous spark back to her eyes. "Hmm, I think something like 'Local Woman Surprises Crowd with Graceful Dance Partner' would do the trick," she teased, making a mock-thoughtful face. "Or maybe 'Unexpected Duo Shakes Up the Ballroom', depending on how this goes."

Her smile turned playful again, her body moving with the music, enjoying the rare sense of freedom that dancing with Civan seemed to bring. For once, there was no pressure, no expectation. It was just the two of them, caught in the moment. She even found herself leaning in slightly, her hand resting more comfortably in his as she continued to tease him.

"You’ve definitely got the crowd’s attention, though. Who knew you were hiding such smooth moves under all that brooding?" she added, her tone light with humor as she found herself relaxing more with each step. It felt nice, this gentle back and forth between them, like a private world amidst the grandness of the ballroom. And from an unexpected place considering how little she actually knew about the other all the time they were growing up. He had always been Enzo's friends

"I’m impressed," she added with a sly smile, "No toe-stepping yet, but I’ll keep an eye on you."

[civanguneri]

"Excuse you," Civan scoffed, "Technically, yes, but I have seen enough american films to be offended by the notion of what that qualifies as more often than not." Like the guy from How to Be Single whose sink didn't even work, and lived above his bar. Civan would sooner set himself on fire than live like an adult frat boy. "It is not... all white, and there's no gurney?" A shallow chuckle colored his response, this time at least a little teasing. "Perhaps you'll have to come visit me some time so that you can judge me fittingly." It'd be better than the run-ins at the hospital at least. "No miracles." Civan interjected stubbornly, shaking his head. A conversation that he had often with his mother who still held strong to her faith in Allah and tried at times to apply it to her son's day-to-day. It was one of few things they ever butted heads on. He'd lost ties to his faith young. "I can... understand why that's difficult, even if mathematically speaking I am unsure that 'most' is applicable. We have a whole wing dedicated to giving life after all." The maternity ward. Admittedly, it was a little odd for him to be the positive one in a conversation, but with Elsie's close personal ties to how difficult it could all be it was understandable. "As you find it uncomfortable in here, will you come have your lunch with me?" He flashed his badge with a faint smirk, "Us privileged types have access to a few spots to get fresh air."

Elsie couldn't help but laugh at his cockiness. He was an attractive man, and skilled at what he did, so perhaps he wasn't far off. It wasn't like Elsie knew the ins and out of his life to decide whether or not his words were more a fiction of his imagination or he had a right in believing that he lingered in people's minds. "Is your place a bachelor pad? As long as it doesn't resemble the hospital because that can't be blamed on bad taste, that's something a lot more sinister." She tapped her head to indicate that the issue was in there if his apartment was both white and sterile.

She looked around and shuddered because she couldn't see beyond the coldness. The idea that most people came in this place when something was wrong and more than half didn't make it out. Well, at least not the same. A lot of people, much like her mother, had come out changed because of the bad news they gotten so she couldn't feel the hope and warmth. "I can understand that but you work here and you do miracles but to people like us, we come here when things aren't right with our body so it's hard to see anything past that." She hugged herself and smiled back at him. "It's nice to see a glimpse of what you see though. It's a breath of fresh air."

[civanguneri]

@hollyparkcr Where: Firefly Brewery, after noon. Civan had almost never, now that he thought of it, been sat down at a table in the Firefly Brewery. He had very little reason to be there normally if but to pick someone else up. It wasn't an altogether terrible atmosphere, especially this time of day. Lunch was quieter he presumed than the evening crowd. Plus, the bartender had been decently unperturbed by his mocktail request. Civan having to check it was genuinely non-alcoholic, because even some bitters and extracts still had low levels. They'd settled on a very yellow, tropical pineapple coconut water that had a nice fresh crisp scent he was already decently fond of. Admittedly, the man had taken a wet wipe to his side of the table when he chose one to sit down, but this ritual was one of a few reasons he'd done his best to show up early for his meet-up with Holly. Two menus dropped off, so that he could start the process of deciding on something permissible to select from the menu. A song and dance that generally equated to Civan just, very very rarely eating out. Anytime the door opened his sharp gaze shot that way, and when the familiar redhead stepped inside he swiftly stood up from his chair. A tight, somewhat awkward smile took up the line of his mouth as he politely nodded to her in greeting. "Afternoon. Hope it's alright I got us a table," the man didn't move to pull her chair out, but he did wait to be seated again until Holly took a seat. "Thank you for agreeing to this."

[civanguneri]

Civan was used to getting calls from the hospital but this was jarring, and he might have swore several times over in Turkish because the nurse wouldn't give him any more information than the bare minimum. He may be her emergency contact, but he wasn't family and they weren't married, and trying to pull seniority had only earned a brusque laugh through the phone from the nurse. Needless to say, he was starting to understand why visitors got so irate with them. "You. I'm going to remember this," Civan pettily announced when he showed up at the hospital and was buzzed through the emergency room doors. He stalked through with a glare that lingered over his shoulder, but he beelined straight for the room Tanvi was in. His hand snapped the curtain open with too much force, and he had to take a slow steady breath so that his frustration wasn't re-directed towards an entirely undeserving Tanvi. Which wasn't hard once she looked up, and the sight of stitches left an awkward knot in the pit of his stomach. "They called me to get you." He answered, taking a few easy long-legged strides across the space towards her. They'd probably get her discharge papers handled quickly now, if partly to get him out of their hair. Without thinking, entirely forgetting Tanvi seemed to be avoiding him as of late, as he neared a hand moved to gently nudge her chin upwards and get a proper look at her stitches. "What'd you do?"

WHO: @civanguneri WHERE: The Hospital... Again

Despite the fact that Tanvi had been doing surveillance since she was in high school and her skills had only grown with years of experience, the one thing she'd never quite been able to curb was her clumsiness. Which only seemed to be exacerbated by her proclivity to wear heels. Which was how she'd ended up sitting on a bed in a bay in the ER, stitches in her forehead as she waited for a nurse to bring her her discharge paperwork.

Cem had dropped the brunette off nearly three hours ago, reluctant to leave her until she threatened to smear the bloody rag in her hand along his face. He needed to finish the job they'd started and she wasn't about to let her own inability to walk down a sidewalk get in the way of one of their bigger paychecks. But her lack of companionship seemed to be an issue when it came to letting her leave- something about concussion protocol dictating she couldn't be discharged alone. And while she'd thought she'd won the argument with the stubborn nurse who was just making her wait in hopes that she'd call someone to come and get her before allowing her to be discharged, she realized the older woman's prolonged absence wasn't out of spite when the curtain opened and Civan was standing on the other side.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, the question leaving her lips in surprise. "It's your day off."

[civanguneri]

"For you, perhaps." Civan amended bluntly. He had seen plenty of families come through the hospital that even in times of unrest, couldn't quite seem to take the blinders off and set their egos aside. "Some people just freeze in emergency situations." He'd tack on, still clearly intent to give her credit despite Vanna's seemingly humble brush off. "It is refreshing to see your family come together," he'd agree. Something like a hint of longing betrayed the far away stare of his sharp blues, his gaze briefly cast away. Staring back through time and space, but it was gone in a blink. Focused back on his attempts to distract his patient's daughter. "Who..?" Civan was confused for a split second, until realization dawned belatedly onto him. Recalling his prior explanation for the candy. "It's not a name, but it is a person." He clarified, "its a term I am used to, for my mother." He let his shoulders relax fully against the chair he'd fallen into, keeping an eye out as they spoke "culturally I believe where I am from we tend to put value in sweets on the whole but she really always has had a sweet tooth." The faint wisp of a near-silent chuckle caught in his throat. He shook his head, casting a look to Vanna. "Are you comfortable knocking some sense into him? Your father." He borrowed her phrasing. Unable to fully turn off the mindset of what was currently at stake, "I ask, because he may very well need to make some health adjustments after all this."

Vanna takes a few bites of her food before closing her to-go box and setting it aside, just in time for the doctor to return. She sits up straight, thanking him after swallowing the last bite, and takes the bottle he offers. However, her attention shifts to the blanket. She turns her head to acknowledge it and then looks back at him, waiting for him to say something. When he responds with a closed fist, Vanna can’t help but smirk, her brows knitting together in curiosity and amusement. She opens her hand, and a small handful of wrapped sweets falls into her palm, making her laugh. Although she wants to say something, she holds back as he begins to speak. Leaning back, she places the sweets in her lap and lifts the now-opened bottle to take a drink.

She can't help but raise her eyebrows in interest as soon as he starts talking about how her parents should be proud, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She pulls away from the water bottle, dabbing the corner of her mouth lightly after feeling some water spill down her chin. "Well, it certainly helps that we're related," she replies with a grin as she unwraps a sweet. "Any of my cousins or aunts would have the nerve to knock some sense into him." After popping one into her mouth, Vanna nods in his direction, resting her palm under her chin. "Who’s Anne?"

[civanguneri]

Civan gave a slow, understanding nod as Elsie spoke. Impressed by the hint of a positive attitude in her choice of words. He opened his mouth to comment on just that, but instead a surprised snort sounded in his throat instead. "Oh? Most people think of me that way too." He mused, "You wouldn't like my modern interior decorating choices either." Civan offered, amused, though understandably a lot of people seemed uncomfortable in hospitals. It was a facet of his work he was used to, the impression the hospital itself seemed to leave on people. "I don't see it that way. Not cold anyway." His brows furrowed, and he nodded his head for her to follow him. A few steps taken aside so they were out of the way of any other traffic by the register. "I have my off days," today was one. Where it felt like his best still wasn't good enough. Where the weight of having lives in his hands was particularly poignant. "—but these sterile, plain white hallways, that's just a building." Civan was quiet for a beat, looking down idly at his own lunch balanced in his grasp. "The way I was raised, I was taught to always be aware of what's going on beyond the surface." A shrug decorated his broad shoulders, "the people here aren't cold. They're what makes the hospital a hospital."

Elsie noted his hesitation but decided not to push. Her softer manner had helped her grow an ability to read individuals and she knew that Civan, as opposed to others, wouldn't welcome an intrusive line of questioning so she easily smiled at his answer. In the same way she'd come to know Civan, she didn't take his words to heart. She'd grown up with blunt, and often times brutal, parenting style so allowing comments to roll off her back was easy.

"You don't have to explain yourself." She interjected but nodded when he decided to go ahead with an explanation. "They'll have to permanently close down the hospital to allow me a break." At least it was how it felt these days with all the appointments and follow-ups. "I've been better, honestly. But I'm aware that it can always take another left turn so I'll just keep it at me being good." There was always worse than what she was going through and she needed to be reminded of that in the moments where she couldn't fathom handling more. "I don't know how you cope working here. It's so.... sterile and cold."

[civanguneri]

📲 HOLLY CIVAN: Yes, I really wish to. CIVAN: Wednesday, noon? If that'll do.

📲 civan | @civanguneri

HOLLY: Thank you for the gift. While it doesn't fix everything, I do appreciate it. HOLLY: I guess we can meet up and chat if you really want to. Just let me know a time and place. HOLLY: I'm free Monday or Wednesday of this week.

[civanguneri]

His frown morphed into a further dead set scowl. Brows sunken into each other, "Maybe if I could be mute." The joke was offered in deadpan, but he'd been pretty close in school and that hadn't helped with girls either. Besides the gaggle of Kaplan/Yilmaz girls, family friends, he'd never exactly been popular. "That was not intentional. Don't you dare spread that around." Funnily enough, as fearful as Nate was of Lia's wrath, she would agree with him on this particular assessment. Potentially Holly too. Still, a miniscule handful compared to the many who saw him at face value. Cold, brusque. The man only seemed to ever fully thaw out around one or two people at best. "No," Civan dismissed and shook his head. "I'm not interested, I just keep getting set up. She's wife hunting." It wasn't that he wasn't dating, as much as he was already spending time with someone and though it was complicated he saw little need to pursue elsewhere. "Let's not try and flip things around on me. Your dating life is interesting enough for the both of us." Civan couldn't help but sneak a little jab in. After a beat, he uncharacteristically softened. His scowl gave way to something more pensive and neutral. "It's good to have you back."

"I need to find a way to film this so you can see that she is genuinely terrifying. She's tiny but she's vicious." Nodding his head, Nate took a sip of coffee as if to assure himself that it really was good. "Aw come on, with a face like that you must have all the advice on women."

Smirking a little against the rim of his coffee cup, Nate couldn't hide the humour on his face. The two had enough in common that their friendship had been easy, mainly because they liked the same things and would happily sit in silence doing separate crosswords. But Nate was no stranger to his friend's nature, even if he did like teasing him about it. "We have matching cardigans, of course you're a secret teddy bear. They just don't know you like I know you." Nate touched a hand to his chest, trying to push a sincere look onto his face but failing as he chuckled almost instantly.

"Is there potential for a redo date though? I mean, would she be someone you'd be interested in?" Finishing his cup of coffee, Nate took the cup to the sink to wash it out. "Or are you just in a no dating zone?"

[civanguneri]

"No." Civan dismissed at the mention of Selling Sunset, it was a miracle the man even knew what it was at all. He was terribly boring when it came to his television choices, the history or discovery channel were a common backdrop. That, or, old Hollywood film classics like Casablanca. He kept walking, "I've got a pristine kitchen out of a Home Living whatever magazine, but it gets used. As it should." As a resident of the Briar Ridge Hills neighborhood the man lived alone in a large, sleek, modern home. A lot of the equipment in his kitchen was nearly commercial grade. As he turned into an isle he paused and looked at the brunette over his shoulder, "You've got stiff competition for that title." Lia was up there, no matter how much he grumbled about her bubbly presence, but favorite person might be stretching it. "No." Again his answer was a simple two letter word, cut and dry. "If I am cooking, I am using my kitchen." Which, technically, was not Civan saying no to making her dinner. "I can't believe you just admitted you have an entire spice collection you didn't organize yourself and that you never use." He grumbled in complaint, beside himself, and the next thing absently plunked into Lia's basket was ditalini.

"In my defence, I have barely had time to cook over the last few years and I'm pretty sure it's a cardinal sin in LA to actually use your kitchen." Shrugging her shoulders, Lia held her hands up in defeat. "You must have seen Selling Sunset, none of those kitchens have been used, I didn't want to devalue my house." The house that still wasn't sold, despite the fact that she had been away from it for nearly a year already.

"Even me? Come on, Civvy, you can't tell me your favourite person, me, by the way, is exhausting!" Smirking at him, Lia couldn't help but joke with him. Civan had been like this for as long as she had known him, even if she would argue he was softer when he was dating her best friend. "Excuse you, I am Mexican, I have an incredible spice cabinet, even if it doesn't get used much. I also didn't buy any of it but my mother would never let me live without one." Glancing at the blend, she nodded. "Although that's just saved me finding my teaspoons." Following him through the store, Lia couldn't help but smile. "Thank you for the help, Civvy. I don't suppose you'd like to come and cook it as well?"

[civanguneri]

"It's nothing," Civan dismissed her thanks coolly. In the habit of depleting his wallet with unblinking nonchalance. "I've been... alright." He hesitated briefly before settling on the vague word, not particularly good at small talk. Elsie was kind enough a soul that he believed she genuinely wanted to know, but she was here and Civan's day to day minor woes paled to having to wade through familial medical issues the way she was. "Not long enough." He heard his joke land awkwardly in the air between them and immediately regretted it. He huffed, at himself, and sharp blues rolled towards the ceiling for a split second. "That came out wrong," a recurring factor in his attempts to socialize. "I meant, as I seem to only see you here at the hospital, you haven't had long enough a break from all this." His free hand rubbed idly at his brow, trying to recover with some hint of grace. "How have you been?"

Elsie hadn't had the forethought of packing a lunch or snacks. It was always a gamble when it came to appointments and blood tests at the hospital. There were times where conversations took longer due to the discovery of something new, or the explanation of an additional treatment, or they simply took her blood and wished them a good day. Today seemed to leaning towards a lengthy stay.

Normally she would have texted her mother to inform her she'd gone to get food but her mother was an hippie who refused to approach anything with rays in fear of cancer. An ironic thought given the position she was in now. After leaving a note with the nurse, she got herself a meal and stood in line. A few bits and pieces to make a lunch that covered only two food groups when she looked up in time to find someone turning towards her. "No, no. It's okay. No harm, no foul." Her tray remained in her white knuckled grip when Civan offered to pay. A nice gesture that meant a significant amount. "Thank you but you didn't have to do that. I appreciate it though. How have you been? It's been how long now?"

[civanguneri]

"Lady?" Civan echoed the word with a scoff, though compared to Sahra threatening to put him through a wood chipper her current theatrics were mild. "Whatever. I'm not fussed about some shadows under my eyes... of all things." He didn't quite cop to it, but he also wasn't clinging to his denial either. Brushing it off regardless.

"In case you care, that particular nickname is quickly skyrocketing to the top of the list of things I never want to be called again." His tone was clipped, dry and uttered with the rasp of a sigh. "Caffeine and spite has done me wonders so far," he'd retort on impulse. Like her, at least somewhat inclined to argue just for the sake of it. A mindless habit, semi-automatic. "Careful prenses, you almost sound concerned for my well being..." for a split second his gaze side-skirted to meet hers. The hint of a smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. "We can't have that." Luckily their trek wasn't exactly a long one, but as they approached Everything Goes Civan realized there was a potential hiccup in this plan. His arms currently steadily cradled Sahra, and he wasn't particularly fond of trying to awkwardly juggle her and reaching for the door. "Alright, you might need to humor me for a second." He tipped his head, "Can you grab the door handle?"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to excel at everything you do." Was she arguing just for the sake to argue? Yes. And was it solely because it was Civan she was arguing with? Also yes. But that was par for the course for the two old friends, so she knew he'd not only be used to it, but he was probably expecting it.

With her arms draped over his shoulders and locked behind his neck, Sahra rested her head down on his shoulder and relaxed into his embrace. Despite their constant back and forth, Sahra was comfortable with Civan. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks." She mused, quoting Shakespeare with a soft chuckle. "And if you're on call and worked the night shift, you and I both know I'm not exaggerating." She didn't bother lifting her head to verify if she'd actually seen the bags beneath his eyes, they were so obvious and she'd known him long enough to know they were there. "But if that's what you have to tell yourself to make yourself feel better than who am I to judge?"

Tugging playfully at the hair on the back of his head only because it was within easy reach, Sahra grinned up at him. "Sure you can, Daddy Warbucks, but will you?" Brows raised in question, she finally lifted her head to look at him. "You can't survive solely on espresso and spite, despite your best efforts. You'd think they'd have taught you that in medical school." Tutting him softly, she rest her head back down and grinned when he turned back to walk in the direction of the nearest coffee shop. She'd known they were going the wrong direction but she wasn't going to say anything, not with this kind of door to door service.