civanguneri

[civanguneri]

"A... gun?" Civan scoffed, nearly choking on a sip of his coffee in the process. "I'm going with no. Maybe pepper spray." He was picturing something pink and glittering that went on her keys, at best. "The coffee is better than any advice I have when it comes to women," he admitted with a stiff shrug of his shoulders. "That is not an accurate summary." A frown visibly overtook his features, gaze narrowed on his friend. "There are plenty of people who consider me an insufferable ass." As was preferable, to some degree. Civan liked to think it made things easier. That was, until he was forced into a more social setting and blatantly reminded of the acute misery it was to deal with certain Briar Ridge locals. "You're in the minority if that is your opinion of me." It was difficult to answer Nate's question, Civan did his best to avoid breaking up the work to home cycle. His boring comfort zone. "There's not much going on with me, work as usual." Work, help with his mother's home care, and his usual allergic to people habits. "My Anne tried to set me up on a date, luckily it was with a woman who also works at the hospital and we both got called in." A saving grace. Though, it wasn't the worst blind date to be set up on.

“I mean sure, but it could also mean that she wished I’d never come back and I should take my dumb ass back to Washington. Both are equally as possible, honestly.” As much as he knew he’d run into Holly when he came back and as much as that had been a reason he’d come back, Nate wished he’d have more of a plan and not just run into her at the cafe like he had.

He knew if he had any chance of having Holly back in his life, whether that be a second chance or just a friendship, he had to do more than back off. After all, that’s what had put him in this position in the first place. “Okay but does Lia have a gun? Because if so, I’m going to go for other friends first.” Nodding, Nate made a mental note of it though. He might joke about his ex’s best friend, but he knew Civan was right. “Thank you, you know I do really appreciate the advice. The coffee as well, mainly the coffee.” 

With a sip of the perfect cup, Nate readjusted his position to lean his hip against the countertop. “So what’s going on with you? Still pretending you’re an ice man whilst we all know there’s a warm teddy bear inside?” Smirking against the rim of his cup, Nate took another sip. “Because obviously we all know how warm and fuzzy you really are.”

[civanguneri]

"I know." Civan persisted, eyes narrowed as Tanvi effortlessly moved into his personal space. He didn't immediately waver but his posture stiffened, shoulders rod straight, abruptly aware of how close she was. In the otherwise sterile facility he caught the comforting waft of her perfume. "This is hardly your brand of helping people." His head tipped to one side, momentarily trying to picture her as a CNA and a huffed scoff of a laugh parted his lips a second later. "Definitely not." He reaffirmed, though it was more so muttered to himself, half under his breath. When Tanvi tauntingly reached out Civan jerked his arm back, and took a retreating step— his gaze sharp and silently accusing. "Odd thing to consider, you could come to see me without potentially breaking any laws." He thumbed past her towards the lobby, "You know, the normal way." He couldn't contest that she was his favorite, they both knew that much to be true. Even in moments like this, where she was unquestionably up to something and it was disrupting his workflow. Somehow, the woman was still a welcome distraction. "If that were the case i'd be plenty happy to see you."

Having to actively stop herself from reaching out to snatch the clipboard back from Civan's hands, Tanvi instead shoved her hands into the pockets of the too large scrub pants and silently reminded herself that she could look at the video from her glasses later to gather the information she was currently missing out on.

With her head tilting back and a grin on her features, the private investigator simply shrugged her shoulders at his words. If it was anyone else, she'd have come up with a lie and gotten the hell out of there. But it wasn't anyone else, it was Civan, and even though she could never lie to him she could have a little fun. "Why do you think that?" She asked, taking a step closer and invading his personal space in the way she both had a habit of doing and knew would probably frustrate him considering the setting. "For all you know, I've been able to keep a secret for once and I took night classes for two years and got a certification and got myself a job here. And now you're preventing me from doing my job and helping people."

Biting down her lower lip to suppress a smirk, she brought a hand up to rest on his his bicep and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You know, you'd think you'd be happier to see your favorite person after they've come all this way in hopes to see you." It wasn't a lie, per se, just a simple stretch of the truth.

[civanguneri]

His jaw was tense, and a deep well of bitter comebacks stirred and lingered just on the tip of his tongue. Too many to count, most of which were much more instigating than the simple arrogance he settled on instead. "Right. Boring. Who knew you were so easily stirred up, then, Becker. I'll have to remember that for later." Civan side-stepped Levi, having taken two long-legged strides towards the entryway when he shot a look back over his shoulder. Unable to help the immature impulse to get one last snide remark in. "Good luck to you and that little spitfire girlfriend of yours." His sharp blue eyes danced with knowing amusement, "Perhaps in the future one you will remember, the customer is always right." With a scoff, and something muttered under his breath, the man turned fully again to rejoin the noise and glitter of the New Year's festivities.

A satisfied smirk began forming across Levi’s sharp features at the fact he’d apparently stumped the other man. Not a bad encounter after all. Especially since it seemed he’d bested Civan, if only momentarily. He certainly would revel in striking a nerve by his unexpected company’s defensive denial. Levi could only slowly nod at what he deemed an excuse. Nothing more, nothing less than that. “Well, you successfully did do something. You bored me.” He dryly rasped as the way Civan explained the pamphlet only took more time away from the task at hand. To try and find Nia. 

“Oh you don’t have to tell me twice. That would mean you’d have to be actually interesting, wouldn’t it?” Levi’s broad shoulders shrugged. “Go ahead, join the party then.” He baited, his head motioning to the doorway where the other towering individual shifted his gaze to. About time he probably should do the same.

[civanguneri]

"Given those roles, I am not sure you want to be amazing at either." He could be wrong but being 'saved' by some rich guy didn't seem like a life goal befitting of the woman currently fighting against his good intentions. Another long, heaved sigh caught in his throat. "Fine." Queen of being a pain the the ass, maybe. "I do not have bags under my eyes. You're exaggerating." His arm idly adjusted as they walked, carful to keep her steady despite his lingering irritation. "I'm on call." Civan offered, "and I worked the night shift. That is the only reason I am taking your coffee first demand to heart." If they were going to, he might as well accept making a scene of it and walk into Everything Goes. At least then he was guaranteed a drinkable espresso, and her muffin. "Shocking news, but, I can just but my own." Though, that was unlikely to be the case. Even if he didn't remember the last time he'd ate. Perhaps once they stepped into the bakery the aroma of freshly made goods would sway him. Belatedly, Civan realized he was going in the wrong direction for what he'd just agreed to. A few mumbled curses parted his lips as he rotated on his heel, adjusting their trajectory through downtown. Silently wondering to himself how this had ended up being his day.

As Civan tilted his head back, a mischievous smirk overtook Sahra's features and she moved one arm to reach up to poke his Adam's apple with her index finger. Sure, causing harm (no matter how minimal) to the man currently carrying her could be considered a detriment to her own safety, but she was secure in the knowledge that despite their volatile connection he'd never do anything that would cause her any actual pain. He may have been a pain in her ass, but he always protected her. Proven in the way he currently carried her towards the nearest shoe store so she didn't step on a nail and die from gangrene or tetanus. Could you even get gangrene from stepping on a nail?

"We both know I'd be amazing at it, like I am at everything else I try." She mused, though her confident smirk fell as intrusive thoughts overtook her brain. You weren't good at knowing your fiance was cheating on you. Or that he didn't really love you. Or that that wallpaper you ordered off of Amazon like an amateur was actually peel and stick and you ruined a wall with wallpaper glue for nothing.

Shaking her head a bit to rid herself of the negative thoughts, Sahra rest her head down on his shoulder and let out an exaggerated sigh. "But I'm hungry." She whined. "And I'm already quite used to getting carried around like the queen that I am. Besides, judging by those bags under your eyes it seems like you could use some caffeine more than I could use shoes." She paused, lifting her head to look at him with a pleading pout. "I'll let you have a small bite of my muffin."

[civanguneri]

Civan let Nat's words sink in, but he couldn't dwell on it— the evening had been tense enough without him getting introspective. Just as he couldn't dwell too much on his altercation with Nia, or the possibility of another to follow suit. Plenty of people present to run into. "It's a long story," He'd amend when Natalie seemed a little taken aback by the culprit. Hell, the source was now nearly five years in the past, but Civan wasn't one to let things go. Forgiveness didn't come easy to him. "Ha. Ha." A brusque, huffed laugh nestled in his chest. "Just because I refused to go to any dances in school, doesn't make me incapable." No, that was more down to the fact that the man avoided most large social gatherings if given the opportunity. He got away with avoiding spring formal and prom, especially senior year, but nowadays it wasn't as easy. He had less of an excuse. "I promise I won't step on your toes." The easier of the two guarantees to make, "— and, I think I am good enough at leading you wouldn't step on me, but if you do, I won't be upset." He did not, however, promise that he wouldn't tease her a bit. "Just think, everyone will be just as shocked to see it as you are to hear me ask — probably more so." Civan offered her an amused smirk, but internally he was still quietly thanking his lucky stars he'd run into someone tolerable. Outside of Nate, or family friends, that wasn't a particularly common thing for him.

Natalie’s smile lingered as Civan's words sunk in, the playful edge fading into something quieter, more reflective. She could feel the sincerity in his voice, even in the casual confession of his flaw. "I get that," she replied softly, her gaze wandering for a moment as she considered his words. "Sometimes, we stay because we don't know how to do anything else." The hint of a sigh lingered in her tone, but she quickly masked it with another sip of her champagne. Natalie had gotten so good at running away, but was never able to find what she needed anywhere but here.

She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his comment about her sparkle, even if she was pleased by it. "Flattery, huh?" she teased, tapping her fingers lightly against the glass. "I suppose I could be persuaded to use my talents elsewhere. It is a new year, after all." As he gestured toward Nia, Natalie followed his gaze, her expression neutral at first, though the familiar name made her pause as she glanced back at Civan with a question in her eyes. "I'll be honest, I didn't see that one coming."

Before she could dwell on it too long, she caught Civan's offer to dance, and the tension in her shoulders eased just a little. "A dance, huh?" Natalie’s eyes sparkled again, a more genuine warmth to them this time. "Who are you really and where's the real Civan?" She tilted her head, her fingers brushing the edge of her glass as she gave him a teasing smile. "But only if you promise not to step on my toes or get upset if I do it."

The night felt like it could go in any direction, and right now, she liked the idea of it veering toward something a little less complicated, a little more carefree.

[civanguneri]

"That sounds more like a comment on your cooking," Civan mused, but he decided to let the takeout debate fizzle out. He doubted no matter how hard he rolled his eyes into the back of his skull that she'd up and making a change in a long-standing habit. His brows knit together as Lia explained her own experiences, but the further she elaborated the more it made his skin crawl. "I would... hate that." A low gruff rumble of a chuckle sat in his chest. "People are exhausting." Civan gave a nod at the ingredients. "That's not bad actually, you're on your way to a proper soup. You said you like pasta?" He turned from her to scan the rest of the spices, "Sounds like you likely don't have a robust spice cabinet." He reached for a Mrs. Dash generic Italian mix blend and let it plunk softly into her basket, "That'll have to do." Civan rotated on a heel, looking up to double-check the aisle markers. "This way."

"It definitely shouldn't be, Civvy! I should not be shamed for ordering in my favourite pasta. Could I make pasta at home? Yes, but it doesn't taste anywhere near as good as the place that delivers from the town ten minutes down the road." Shrugging her shoulders, Lia sighed. "I don't make the rules, I just live by them." Smirking a little, Lia tried not to chuckle. "Well thank you Mr Doctor, but it's not like I'm eating a whole Chinese takeout menu every night. Just every other night."

Nodding, Lia tried to see it from his perspective but for someone who had spent the majority of her life surrounded by people, being on her own still felt like a novel experience. "I'm just not used to it. I was always surrounded by family before I moved out, in Nashville and LA I never lived on my own, my best friend lives with me now, so quiet alone time isn't something I have a lot." Hence the conversations with her cat. The silence wasn't always her friend. "So far? I have a tomato, some green onions and bone broth. I fear I have a way to go before I have a meal on my hands."

[civanguneri]

Civan had been venting at the nearby nurse's station when a wise, steady pair of hands turned him about-face towards a window into the lobby. A whispered 'Shut up and look,' came from over his shoulder. Annoyed that, as was her intention, something about the sight of the Huáng family takeover melted away a healthy dose of the irritability that radiated off of him only seconds ago. The waiting was often the worst part, but seeing the makeshift potluck reminded him starkly of home. After a whispered exchange regarding blood tests and a chest x-ray, clipboard tucked under one arm, Civan was shooed off towards a straggler. The daughter, as he'd come to understand. Just as he stepped towards the chairs a loud alarm sounded through the hall and a med tech went scrambling by him, "It's not him." Civan assured as he took a wide-step toward Vanna and out of the way, a nurse bustling by them a half-beat later in the same direction. "That's one of the bed alarms," the low gravelly shout of a female patient followed suit to punctuate his point. The alarm echoed through the corridor for a brief moment longer, but he kept his attention on her— a little more stiff in his posture than he'd like to be. "Can I get you a water or anything?" He offered, "I'd say coffee but it's shit." Reasons he brought his own grinds for the staff lounge.

WHERE: Emergency Room... past midnight! @civanguneri

Vanna felt utterly drained after the tumultuous day she had endured. It began on a seemingly typical high note, but everything shifted dramatically when her father was suddenly seized by a wave of intense chest pain. Neither of her parents had shown any signs of illness, yet given their penchant for hiding the truth, a nagging suspicion lingered in Vanna's mind that they might be concealing something far graver. In a flurry of panic, they rushed to the hospital, leaving Jackson alone in the whirlwind of uncertainty. Vanna and her mother hurried him straight to the ER, anxiety gripping them both. The moment was etched in her mind—her father had been carrying a plate piled high with food when he abruptly halted in the middle of the room. With a trembling hand, he clutched his chest, and Vanna felt a swell of relief as Jackson sprang into action, catching the plate just before it tumbled to the floor, while their father crumpled beside an empty booth.

Before she could fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, Vanna found herself gripping the steering wheel, navigating the chaotic streets toward the emergency room, her heart racing in tandem with her thoughts. Throughout the drive, her father’s voice nagged incessantly in the backseat, a barrage of worries and instructions that seemed all too trivial against the backdrop of the unfolding crisis. It left her mind in disarray, caught in a tempest of conflicting emotions—how was it possible to feel both an overwhelming sense of dread for her father’s wellbeing and an equally potent irritation at his relentless commentary?

Although it wasn't typical for her immediate family to find themselves in a hospital setting, each member had developed their own tradition of gathering in the lobby, creating a sort of makeshift potluck whenever a cousin, uncle, or aunt faced a temporary stay in the ICU. The two-person-only rule did little to deter the Huángs; they transformed every visit into a lively family outing. While her mother and uncle focused their attention on her father, Vanna busied herself with distributing the warm to-go boxes of food that Jackson had thoughtfully brought for the family and friends who had come to offer their support. Cradling her own Chinese takeout box, Vanna leaned back against the cool wall outside, a frustrated groan escaping her lips. She began to stuff food into her mouth, her brows drawn together in a mix of anger and exhaustion, the comforting aroma of the food momentarily overshadowed by the weight of their circumstances.

[civanguneri]

Although Civan was the last person Holly should have been sending a Valentine, the man’s hatred for the holiday seemed like the perfect time to piss him off even further. After loading a confetti cannon into a heart-shaped box, the woman attached an anonymous message to the lid, reading ‘Happy Valentines Day. Hope you have a blast!’ before having it delivered to his home.

[civanguneri]

@elsiebarnes Where: the hospital cafeteria. As impervious as Civan liked to think himself, he was human and the day thus far weighed heavy on his shoulders. He'd lost any connection with his faith as a teenage boy who suddenly lost his father, but, his work in the hospital always seemed to serve as another nail in the coffin. No Gods in sight, just humanity doing the best it could and sometimes failing. He gave a stiff nod to the cashier, holding his 'Picky asshole' special as it jokingly had been deemed by some of the cafeteria staff, and as he brusquely turned the man nearly walked smack dab into another body. "Orospu evladı," he swore under his breath — softening only when sharp blue eyes settled on a familiar face framed in sunshine blonde locks. "Oh." He sighed and shrugged some of the tension off, "Elsie, I didn't... I wasn't paying attention." He shuffled to the left, letting her approach the counter, and then just as abruptly turned back towards the counter himself. Nodding toward the woman with a tip of his head, "Add her's to my account." There was a brief teasing comment in return about 'abusing his discount' but they punched his ID number back into the register regardless.

[civanguneri]

Civan had a way of walking in brisk long strides, from point a to point b with minimal distractions or unnecessary interactions. It didn't make him the most approachable presence in the hospital halls but he liked to be efficient and knew from experience how quickly one could get caught up in some intern's melodrama. He didn't have time to coddle anyone. "Watch where you're—" his voice was curt, until altogether it wasn't. Words dissipated mid-grumble. He blinked, dumbstruck by the sight in front of him. It was difficult to be annoyed, if partly because the sight of Tanvi draped in his too big scrubs was both comical and oddly endearing. A brow arched. "Mishra." Civan strived for some neutrality in his tone and sharp eyes shifted aside, watching the everyday traffic of the hospital carry on alongside them. Unaware to his predicament. "I'm not the oddity here." He reached for the clipboard in her grasp, immediately suspicious. There were few reasons for the PI to be skulking around, in stolen garb from his closet, and visiting him was not on the list. "I think you've got the wrong patient." Mainly because she didn't have any. Adorable or not, Civan wasn't capable of letting her wander off with someone's private medical information.

WHO: @civanguneri WHERE: The Hospital

Tanvi didn't find herself in the hospital for work often, but when she realized the subject her client hired her to follow spent an inordinate amount of time in the ER there was really only one thing for her to do. So she borrowed a pair of Civan's scrubs (even though they were far too large for her smaller frame), slapped on a medical mask, and excited slipped on her newly purchased glasses with a built in camera and spent the day with a clipboard in hand, pretending to be a nurse as she followed the stranger around.

She'd gotten away with it so far, the hospital being busy enough for her to stay unnoticed by most busy doctors and nurses, and she was getting some great footage. But it all came to a screeching halt when, while sneaking a peek at her subject's chart, she turned and ran directly into a strong, solid, chest.

"Oof." The sound escaped her lips in a huff as she was momentarily confused, head tilting back to look up at the doctor she'd just run directly in to. She'd had an excuse ready on the tip of her tongue but when she saw who she'd encountered, a wide grin overtook her features. "Jaan, fancy seeing you here."

[civanguneri]

"I—" calm breaths, in and out. Civan's nostrils flared and he decided that something about Levi, their history aside, just effortlessly grated on his nerves. "No." He scoffed, stiff and his jaw unendingly taunt. His next few words felt like pulling teeth. "I'm obviously here for the New Years event," regrettably. Though, that too circled back initially to his mother's wishes. Praying for a son who had a more fulfilled social life. "I was explaining the pamphlet that you're eyeing, as if i've got a building schematic and planning a devious heist." It took every fiber of his being to not say that unlike some people he wasn't the sort for breaking and entering. "I'm not a Bond villain." Civan huffed, and his gaze swept towards the doorway behind Levi that led back into the party. Oddly he'd rather the noise of the festivities than this interaction.

Even though the instigating seemingly dropped all at once, Levi remained skeptically eyeing the other man. Intent on staunchly protecting what he had. Nia could fight her own battles just fine, yet it didn’t mean his composure could be contained whatsoever when baseless threats were being thrown around she didn’t deserve. By Civan of all people, when enough distasteful bias existed against them all. And honestly? Seeing the evident alcohol stain on his aggravating company’s suit truthfully made his whole night so far. Nia certainly must've had good reason. 

Catching the opposite step backwards, the move prevented him from making any further rash move. Stance straightening, his chest heaved as he begrudgingly let Civan speak. A light, dry scoff emitted hearing the admission of not spending any further time at the resort. 

“— That’s the only reason?” Levi took a quick glance back at the front desk counter. "With the party going on here tonight?"

[civanguneri]

"I..." Civan laughed, and it was an oddly humble sound from the otherwise wound tight man. "Don't tell anyone i've owned to a potential flaw but," his tone was low again, as if sharing a secret for only Natalie's ears. "I find I can't walk away." Leaving his mother here when he got accepted to his school of choice in California had been agonizing. Being forced to leave his extended family behind in Turkey when they moved to Briar Ridge in the first place, in his youth, had been miserable. At the first hint his mother may need his help he uprooted in the middle of his medical field training to start it all over back home, and Alara — no matter the distance she put between herself and those who cared for her, Civan remained. "I really like that mischievous sparkle in your eyes," he'd concede, "— but I doubt she'd have any reason to target you." No, he got the feeling that the woman in question did not dislike many people. Civan had just earned a special disdain. Still, though he didn't buy the logic, he'd play along and peer out into the glittering crowd. The way her dress caught under the ballroom lights made the woman in question easier to spot in the crowd, and again Civan lent conspiratorially toward Nat. "The bubbly one there, Nia." Little did he know, Nat knew the woman as well. As seemed to be the way of the world in Briar Ridge. "I'd really rather you saved your talents for something else, though." He needn't add fuel to the fire. "Perhaps you can suggest a mocktail? Or I can whisk you onto the dance floor?"

Natalie’s smile softened slightly with a nod, eyes alight with mischief even though she'd told herself to rein it in for the time being. However it wasn't midnight yet, which meant there was plenty of time to tone it down before the new year started up again. "It's hard to walk away from those we care about sometimes," she spoke, though her tone was wistful almost before she swallowed it back down with another sip of her champagne. She'd done it plenty of times before, but Natalie was trying to show that she wasn't the same person that she used to be and stick through even when it felt pointless at times. It couldn't end that way.

Her gaze fell to the mess on his jacket and held back a small laugh, even if it slipped out in the barest of sounds before she shook her head. "I wouldn't dream of it. However, if someone happened to find themselves doused in more than a glass of champagne, then that would be karma. Not me. Never me," she added with a slight flutter of her eyes to overexaggerate her words. "You could always point them out to me though, so I know to keep a wide berth or else I might have to keep this dress rather than return it in a few days." A small white lie wasn't going to hurt.

Not when she was feeling more comfortable around Civan, feeling the ability to breathe before she knew that she'd end up back out there again. Whether it was for more networking or something else, Natalie couldn't help the way it made her feel when she felt the need to perform and sometimes needed the break.

[civanguneri]

Civan kept Sahra steady in his arms but leaned his head back, skyward, inwardly praying for the strength to tolerate her seemingly endless theatrics. Where the energy for it flowed from he'd never comprehend. "No." He sighed, and as she seemed to accept her fate he turned about-face towards the sidewalk. A faint silently bemused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, Pretty Woman turned Kathy Bates. "That's quite the role to cast for yourself, Sahra." They'd both knew pretty early in life, he thought, that nothing could ever come to fruition between them. Civan was practically a stand-in older sibling, and as such, rightfully they got on eachothers' ever last nerve. Especially, because today was an all too familiar sensation. Trying to help her and meeting stubborn resistance. At least in that Sahra was not entirely unique in his life. "Shoes first," though he may live to regret the lack of caffeine. It just meant one less location to literally heft her through. Civan, of course, blatantly ignored her second claim to 'almost dying' as he started a steady stride down the sidewalk. Impervious to any looks they might get along the way.

How Tarik and Tara had put up with Civan since they were children, Sahra would never understand. Sure, she'd had a childhood crush on the older man- objectively, he was good looking and Sahra, well, she had eyes. But all of that attraction usually flew out the window as soon as he opened his mouth. "Right, Doctor House. And your warm bedside manner would only help speed up that healing process, yeah?" Rolling her eyes, Sahra was about to go back at him with another sarcastic comment when he leaned down and scooped her up, an indignant huff leaving her lips instead as she kicked her now bare and aloft feet in protest.

"I am not a brat." Her tone came out, well, rather bratty, though it all quickly changed when he offered to carry her to get new shoes... and caffeine. "Is this my Pretty Woman moment? You pick me up off the street and make an honest woman outta me? Because honestly, Civ, it wouldn't work. We'd kill each other. Unless your goal is to end up dead, frozen, and put through a wood chipper into the ocean as the sharks very own human flavored shaved ice."

Gaze following his to the spilled coffee, a pang of guilt hit her in the gut as she brought her arms up to drape around his neck. "Are we going to do espressos first? Or shoes? And can I get a muffin, too? Nearly dying really whets your appetite."

[civanguneri]

"It was supposed to be a compliment!" Civan tossed his hands up in exasperation, but he was quick to surrender. The rest of Sel's observation proved that perhaps, she knew him too well. He'd had to bite back a rebuttal that the gift wasn't thoughtless, because it hardly mattered — in the end, she was right. It wouldn't be enough. Especially not after Civan had let himself get defensive with Holly. Any feeble attempt he had at a filter out the window once the man really let himself get his walls up. Knowing that Selin was right about the apology did not stop Civan from frowning at her. Brows knit together in contemplation. "That could backfire." With a sigh, Civan threw up a hand to wave off his own circular logic. "But, I hear you. That is a problem for tomorrow." Tonight was its own mess as is. His sharp gaze searched the glitzy ballroom for a familiar head of hair, "I appreciate your opinion, but I have probably let the problem child alone long enough..." Civan winked, the wisp of a raspy chuckle nestled in his chest.

"Civan— have you learnt nothing from growing up alongside us? I would have kicked you in the shin if you started giving opinions about my clothes." Though she had come to him many times about his thoughts because he was one of the most honest people she knew, but it didn't mean she would ever want it unsolicited. "Knowing you, It's not the worst comment you could have made, but I'm assuming she doesn't know that."

Her head shook and she nudged him. "Seems like things don't change and someone doesn't outgrow his cluelessness." Her brow furrowed at the thought of buying something and she immediately shook her head. "You're such a man. You can't brush away something like that with a thoughtless gift. I'd suggest a treatment but that could be taken badly, and I don't trust you to deliver it in a way that isn't offensive, so we're going to have to go with the traditional apology." She grimaced at him, as if feeling bad for his position. "You'll survive. Your ego, much less, but it'll recover."

[civanguneri]

On any other night, Civan would be tempted. Let Levi make a move, have a reason to put in a formal complaint with the resort management. Be a problem. Surely it'd all blow over in the long run, he didn't actually want anyone to lose their job, but it might suffice his ego to be able to say on paper that Levi was the one in the wrong. Instead, tonight Civan had reasons to try and not further provoke his company. With a sigh he took a steady step backward. "Look..." his jaw was taunt, having to force himself to aim for civility. "It's not for me. Don't worry." He gestured again with the pamphlet, dropping all talks of Nia before either of them crossed a line. Instead, he'd answer Levi's suspicions. "I didn't want to come tonight, and I don't plan on spending any more time here than this evening." If he could help it.

"Ask the front desk, I put my mother up here every year." Unsurprisingly, his Anne was far more forgiving about the whole mess than her over-protective son.

His suspicions weren’t deterred. Civan should’ve known he wouldn’t be let go of easily, especially having encountered one of his favorite ‘biased staff members.’ “An employee not recognizing you? They need promoted.” Levi dead-panned, a satisfied smirk momentarily presented itself on his features. He’d have to thank whoever that person was. Classic. 

However, anyone who dared talk any ill of Nia sent Levi instantaneously flaring. While narrowed eyes glared intensely in the opposite direction, he couldn’t help the hint of amusement noticing the visible, dampened mark staining the other man’s suit jacket. Nicely done. Hardly surprised at the flawless shot. At the same time, the stinging disappointment resurfaced from within him that the woman seemed miles and miles away across the ballroom. Made the ongoing provoking from his insufferable company all the more worse.

“Say one more thing about her…” Levi tersely warned, jaw clamped shut. Civan wouldn’t just be immaturely whining about a champagne smudge soiling his attire. 

[civanguneri]

Shock and guilt dissolved into a defensive impulse, being told how he felt about anything was always somewhat of an instant provocation as far as Civan was concerned. His gaze turned cold, walling up in front of Holly in an instant and unable to clamp down the blunt sarcastic rebuttal. "Sure, that must be it. I don't care. Nate didn't care. We're just emotionless assholes." He scoffed, a loud brusque sound that sat in his chest. "He wasn't sat in my kitchen recently wondering if you ever really cared about him." Civan took a step back and shook his head. "People aren't that black and white, Allah help me I wish we fucking were, but... it doesn't work like that. So next time you want to point fingers at all those around you, take a look in the mirror first. Nathaniel messed up, I messed up, but if neither of us cared we wouldn't bother." He was not necessarily helping her point about taking Nate's side, but he was already standing in a hole — what was digging a little deeper going to do? "Oh right, you forgave him and now you need someone else to direct your frustration at. Fine. Might as well. I've always made a good scapegoat for other people's problems."

Holly stared at Civan, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his words. The more he spoke, the more her frustration built. She wasn’t looking for an apology from him—at least, not a half-assed one—but hearing him deflect, hearing him act like he didn’t realize how much his silence had hurt her… that was almost worse.

She set her drink down a little too forcefully, the clink of glass sharp in the quiet between them. "Not your secret to share? That’s your excuse?" She shook her head, the bitterness rising again. "You didn’t have to tell me every detail. But you could’ve said something. It took you months just to let me know he was alive and well—hell, you could’ve stood up for me. Reminded him how unfair it was."

Her chest tightened, the words spilling out faster than she meant them to. "I thought you were my friend. I thought I could trust you to look out for me. And now, you’re standing here, finally realizing that I cared? Well, it's rather clear that you don't."

[civanguneri]

Unfortunately, Civan was not entirely impervious or immune to the other end of Alara's sharp tongue. He could handle many things, but this had a particularly bitter taste to it. Defensiveness flared within the man, and it took a lot of his willpower to clamp down on it — Civan had been a teenager when he lost his father. Teenagers were selfish creatures. Of course, he had regrets and said things to his father that haunted him even now. But he knew that defending his ego and the right to his own pain didn't help the situation. So Civan stared her down, jaw tight for a moment as he swallowed the flash of anger. "Don't." He breathed out in answer only once he'd reigned in some of the bite it might've initially been saturated in. "You're entitled to your pain," and self-pity "but do not presume to know how I feel." Civan straightened to his full height, not allowing himself another second of thought on himself. "Alara, canım..." Despite the emotion of it all, he couldn't contain the hint of a challenging smirk. "I'm not going anywhere." A shrug decorated his bulky shoulders as he squared off with her. "I don't quit. Besides, who else am I going to spend my evening with on a night like this?" He turned an open palm toward the crowd. Loud cheers broke out somewhere, people chattering away loudly in every decked-out corner of the ballroom. "How about... for now... you do me a favor?" Civan turned towards the bar himself this time, "We've got a new Mocktail to invent, hm? Make the bartender squirm?"

Alara tilted her head, quirking a brow at her best friend’s rose-colored-glasses approach to the new year. “Small triumphs, huh?” Her voice carried a bitter edge, one she didn’t bother softening. “What do you do when there are no small triumphs to celebrate, hmm, Civan?” 

“Being too much of a coward to come home before….” Her voice cracked, the sentence left unfinished. Her baba’s absence hung in the air like an unwelcome guest, heavier than any drink could drown out. 

She finally turned to meet his gaze, her expression defensive, almost daring him to counter her self-loathing. “You don’t get it. You always show up. You always do the right thing. You don’t have to live with the fact that the last words you said to your baba were on a phone screen because you were too damn afraid to come home.”

Civan and Selin were the only two people in the world who Alara had admitted to even a fraction of the pain she was going through. But this was more than she had ever admitted in the past, the alcohol in her system wreaking havoc on the emotions roiling inside her and causing them to overflow into poor Civan’s unsuspecting lap. There were no small triumphs when she thought back on the previous year. All she could see was the selfishness and fear that had clouded her judgement and kept her from being able to face the thought of her father dying. 

“Your couch sounds great, but it’s not going to change anything, dostum,” she said, her voice steadier now, if only because she was working so hard to keep it that way. “So, stop trying to save me tonight. You’re not going to win.”

But beneath the bravado, a tiny part of her hoped he wouldn’t give up. Hoped he’d see through the armor and stay anyway. Because if there was anyone who could sit with her in the mess of her grief, it was Civan. And, deep down, she knew it.