beneath.

lottie and spencer @beneathoaktrees

Spencer looks up from the documents he's reviewing, eyes tracing over the intern. There's a sarcastic comment burning on his tongue, but he holds it back, hearing someone's voice (probably Tess') telling him to be nicer. Nicer to her meant different things to him, though, so he returns to looking at his paper and flips it to the intern. "Patient has elevated tropinin levels. What does that mean?" he awaits her answer for all of a second before adding: "Tick, tock. And here's a hint, the nurses aren't gonna tell you shit if you yell at them, so try not to piss them off before you're my intern. It's annoying."

ryan mentions christmas cards and sienna laughs a little, eyes rolling. she has always found personalized christmas cards to be a little tacky, but somehow the idea of doing something like that with ryan and leslie isn't entirely nauseating — even if their relationship is still so new, and they couldn't really share anything with anyone anyways. maybe by christmas she'll be feeling brave enough to cross that bridge, but sienna doesn't want to let herself go that far yet. "she only pushes you out because you're a furnace most nights," she reasons with a hum, hand coming to rest on top of his and squeezing gently. "i love her too — she's a good dog. i think. i've actually never had a dog before." her eyebrows pull together, nose scrunching a little before shaking her head. "but i'm glad. you and her... it's been a long time before anything has felt easy for me. but this does."

"I won't tell her you just think she's a good dog," he smirks. Ryan loves the feeling of being close to her, just like his dog. Allie had never wanted a dog after her childhood dog had passed away, but once he was on his own, Leslie became that constant companion for him. He likes to think of her as the training wheels for finding love again. "I like that we make it feel easy. It should be easy," he assures her. Of course, it may not always be the easiest with other factors around them, but between them-- that should be easy. They deserved that, didn't they? "Keep practicing your stitches and that'll be easy too," he chuckles, letting his thumb gently caress her hand on top of his. "I won't tell anyone you're using me for being the top of your class."

being pulled on this case, with one of the bigger names in college football, was an honor to miller. but it was also more pressure than he’s ever felt in this internship. “uh,” he knew the answer, but he was so desperate to impress — to be a different miller than new york miller — he ended up tripping over himself. “don’t — i know this.” it took thirty seconds for his brain to fully load and then he was waving a finger at ryan. “no drinking, no parties no screen time…which probably means no class work so he should be happy about that.” he said on a laugh. “ease back into it in forty-eight hours.” nodding at the file in the attending’s hand, miller crossed his arms. “and i don’t think he was complaining of blurred vision but we could get him a consult for an ophthalmologist if that changes.” reapproaching the x rays on the wall, miller put his glasses on. “we both know football players right? and how thick headed they can be,” after a beat, he turned to grin at ryan. “pun intended,” gesturing at the wall, he continued. “we can’t just like, tell the other players to be more gentle, or him to stop playing. how worried should we be about the potential next head injury?”

Ryan nods, letting the intern finish his thoughts. "Good, that's exactly right. Unfortunately, most, if not all, concussion patients will complain of continued headaches-- especially when they break our rulebook. So we can suggest over-the-counter pain medication as well. An ophthalmologist will only be needed if he has that blurring. I'll also be asking his parents to inform his athletic trainers so we can ensure he's not playing any time in the next 2 weeks, considering he narrowly missed out on brain surgery," he explains. Ryan did know football players, but most of the time, at least the parents were on his side when it came to advising when and when not to play. "I know them well. That's why we go over them. Unfortunately, I can't tell his coach not to play him, but I always hope the parents will-- when they are signed off for the HIPAA docs," he shrugs. "Hitting him less hard won't be in the cards, but at least we can try and heal him before he gets rocked again; otherwise, there's a good chance he'll be back here -- or worse. In my trials, I'm working with guys who are 15 years in the future who didn't listen to their doctors. Sometimes I wish I could show these guys what they might look like if they don't listen, you know?"

“well yeah, but i guess they’re not as intimidating,” miller said with a snort, dropping the spatula in favor of the tongs he had hanging off the side of his grill. turning back to spencer and crab clawing the tongs at him, an eyebrow arched upwards over the frames of his glasses. “this better?” closing the hood of the grill, miller wiped his hands on the apron he insisted on wearing whenever he was cooking. moving back to the table, the intern dropped dramatically into the chair across from spencer. “i know man,” miller said, waiving off his friend’s argument. “and you know i appreciate that,” if spencer wanted to talk about how great he was, then who was miller to argue that? running a hand over his jaw, the cook shrugged. “i mean, are you saying that because of my skill or because you like hanging out with me,” he had been staring up at the sky, letting the breeze that flowed between the two houses hit his face. it had been awhile since he hadn’t been stuck in the hospital in the hours the sun was up. he was basking in it. 

Spencer looks at Miller from under his lashes, a glare meeting the tongs that he's changed over to. No wonder this guy isn't getting laid, he thinks to himself. Then again, maybe that's why he was close to going down the aisle-- he was a lot warmer than his harsh friend. "Or because you're making me food," he says, assuring Miller there's definitely a third option. Spencer was glad to bring over the food if he wasn't the one meant to cook it. He'd had a similar setup with Indira, where he'd been happy to pay for the takeout they ate or supply the food that his chef had made during his time spent in Spencer's apartment. Spencer leans back, stretching his back in the chair as he does-- his ass starting to go numb as he studies the cases awaiting Miller to get done with their meal. "You're still upset about that? Isn't your mourning time over?" Spencer sighs. Of course, the resident wasn't exactly the 'heartbroken' type. "It's so boring."

indira had been staring at her costume for ten minutes, trying to figure out what it needed. it felt too plain. all black, heels that made her around six feet tall. she looked good, she knew she did. but compared to last year, when she went as an angel covered in head to toe glitter, this year’s posh spice felt like it needed something. so she brought it to the queen of halloween costumes herself, to get a second opinion. speak of the devil — violet’s voice carried down the hall and indira stuck her head out of the doorway and snorted. “why didn’t you ask me to meet you down the hall to help?” she laughed, half jogging to meet up with her, grabbing a pumpkin and the bag of candy. “what’s the plan for the pumpkins?” she asked, nudging the door open again with her toe as she let violet walk around her into the apartment first.

Violet laughed, shaking her head. "Isn't it obvious that I thought I grew a third and fourth arm on the way here?" she asks with a snort. Halloween was never boring for the pediatric surgeon, who made it a sport, wearing a whole week's worth of costumes for the occasion. "Plus, I was trying to get the final pumpkins to the people so that I don't have to use them for compost if they can bring some cheeriness. -- You look hot, by the way. Very Posh Spice and super baddie vibes. Are you excited for tonight?" she asks, figuring she couldn't be the only one excited for the girls' night, after work and trick or treat, of course. "I'm just glad I didn't decide to wear Cat Woman this year because then we'd almost match."

hollis takes the x-rays from violet, fingers brushing for just a second. between the touch and violet's costume — a repeat from the year before, one that had spent more time on hollis's bedroom floor than anywhere else — the ghost of something familiar stirs somewhere. when they step out of the parents ear shot — always the best course, in hollis's opinion, just in case they need to strategize telling them a worst case scenario, hollis glances at violet. "i thought you were staunchly against costume repeating," she hums, a brow raising at the glinda tiara atop her head. the amount of outfits changes violet had gone through last halloween was enough to make hollis — who was more than content to throw on a ghostface mask for the first two parties they'd attended before the grand finale had resulted in violet roping her into an elphaba costume — feel a little dizzy. so she's surprised to see it again.

Violet can't help but think back to last Halloween and the way the pair's night ended with plenty of green paint exchanged between them. There's always an electric spark that still lingers between them-- sometimes Violet wonders if it's because they weren't quite done when she'd ended things. She'd only done so because she was scared of the possibilities between them-- a perfect parallel between Elphaba and Glinda, now that she thinks back to it. Now, Hollis was seemingly spending more time with Indira, something that seemed like a better fit anyway. Violet couldn't trust herself to take care of Hollis the way Indy surely would. That is, if they were going in that direction.

"Hollow chest? That's a lie," he shakes his head, light eyes raking over her like he's scrutinizing her. Rome could not imagine her without a heart, especially considering he's seen her with the patients and the rats. She might feel as though there was a hollowness, but considering he sees himself as a version of the Tin Man, he feels a warmth from her. Even her passion feels warm and considerate-- the nursing shortage and his research clearly sparking a hint of fire in her. "I know; all of us surgeons know," he assures her. "Not that my opinion is heard either, but you all do a great job, I assure you," Rome adds. He takes a sip of his coffee, shrugging. "I don't mind doing more surgery. It's just going to backtrack my timeline for my research, which means fewer headlines for Sullivan, which means he's going to be even less concerned with it." Rome's already thought through whether he should be heading to another hospital system with a better focus on research, but he likes his hospital. "It's a balancing act. Or I'll just end up sleeping in the lab and having even less of a personal life."

margot doesn't bother hiding her smile this time — it comes slow and deliberate, a true testament to how easily a little flattery works on her. "you're not wrong," she says, quiet but cutting. "russ had a habit of picking safe cases — and he was great, but safe doesn't get you very far in plastics." she flips through her notes one more time before tilting her head, gesturing for him to follow as she starts down the hall. "dr. sullivan's made it pretty clear he wants headlines. before-and-afters that make people talk and surgeons who can deliver them." it's not exactly a challenge, but it's close enough. she's basically given him the playbook — get good enough to take risks like she does, and he'll rise fast. play it too safe and he'll disappear. she lets the silence stretch a beat too long before glancing back at him. "and don't thank me yet. you haven't seen what i expect once we're in there."

Spencer can only imagine that Margot was exactly the kind of person that his parents would love him to follow. He could see his parents basking in the fame and the fortune of plastics-- making the headlines that Margot spoke of. It feels almost dirty, even if it was still helping people. Even scrubbing in didn't give him the same excitement as the daring surgeries of the heart-- someone's literal life in his hands. "More headlines mean more money coming in and more time with Sullivan in front of the press," Spencer nods. "Russ wasn't concerned with all of that, I think," he adds. He follows Margot, ready to move into the OR. "I'll try not to. But I've been reading up on revisions and how different conditions can cause issues."

Spencer snickers to himself, despite the 'threat'. Taren would hear his words and roll her eyes, maybe tell him to shut up, which maybe he'd deserve. Still pressing the tablet into Eli's hands, Spencer hands off partial responsibility for Coop's patients, which may or may not be a good idea. "Try not to kill anyone," he reminds Eli. "4580 keeps coding," he warns. "Your technique probably won't be much use if he dies," Spencer shrugs. Cockiness may ooze from both of the doctors, but Spencer simply wasn't going to let Coop think him incompetent because of Eli. "I started him on beta-blockers to see if we can get the arrhythmias to stop, but I'm thinking we're going to have to take him into surgery tomorrow when Coop gets back. Ya know, if you don't kill him."

Ryan knew that he was better than he gave himself credit for. He just had a hard time trusting his gut-- especially when it came to a young guy's career. He nods, eyes peering up at Zoya with a small smile. "I appreciate that," he says, knowing that it's not always easy for her to give those sorts of compliments. At the very least, she's not going to lie when she says it-- he can trust what she's saying. He pauses, thinking about the overnight shift, wondering if he could request someone so he didn't have to sit at the Duck. "Resident," he shrugs. "Maybe Theo-- not Kent," he offers, figuring that he might be experienced enough to feel good about leaving him in charge. "I'll be going home-- not the Duck. I'm trying to let the residents take a little more charge. I'm teaching. That's what Sullivan's always saying, right?"

Violet's eyes practically bug out of her head at the idea that Zoya could be so willing to say something like that to the Chief of Surgery-- especially now. "You're literally my hero. You're like a Goddess or something," she muses, shaking her head to try and reduce the size of her eyes. Violet can barely even ask him to move out of the way when she's trying to work, let alone tell him to shove it up his ass. "Aren't you scared that he's going to fire you?" she asks, her voice practically hanging on every word that Zoya says. Violet sips her tea gently, biting down on her lip as she does. "I just-- you know, when you know that you've got things handled? Well, I was totally in the zone and I was in there -- kicking ass, honestly. And then he's there trying to act like I'm still some candy striper instead of an attending." Violet takes a deep breath, shaking her head. "I just didn't need him, and he was making things complicated."