AMㅤIㅤAㅤ𝙶𝙾𝙳 ˀ

dr. grey watches his hand closely, eyes narrowing as his fingers refuse to curl, and she feels a familiar tightness coil in her chest. there’s something about it, the way his hand moves that she know warrants a scan. (should she page torres? now? but callie and arizona are out with sophia...she bites her lip, putting in the order she's technically not allowed to call). she straightens, her fingers instinctively reaching for her stethoscope, even though she doesn’t need it for what’s unfolding. the way his hand moves—or rather, doesn’t move—makes her pulse quicken, just slightly, as she mentally rechecks the anatomy, the muscles, the nerves. she pauses before speaking again, her gaze sharp, but kind, as she steadies herself. ❝ It's not great, to say the least. ❞ she answers, her voice calm but with a hint of something sharper beneath. ❝ — your job, can i — i mean, this is strange. how does this happen? what exactly do you do? ❞

❝ you’re a great host, you know that? ❞ amir says, the words coming out lighter than he expects, but warm, genuine. before emery can escape, he gives a gentle tug on the arm —  the mix between a hello and a i missed you. (she's beautiful as ever, and the grad student can only pray thankfully to god for letting him finish the chemical experiments in time to make time to stop by this party. a little text to the organization that he's not taking any jobs tonight and now here he is, in front of her, like he'd practiced.) the atmosphere every bit as magical as the holidays, his brown eyes pouring into hers. ❝ a championship? come on, you think you can beat me? i'm willing to bet money on myself! ❞

noor exhales a soft laugh, the sound barely audible as she leans against the counter, her scrub top still rumpled from the day’s chaos. she’s tired—bone-deep in a way only surgery can carve into a person—but there’s a small smile tugging at her lips. ❝ skating’s ambitious for someone who’s been on her feet since five a.m., don’t you think? ❞ she points out, her voice tinged with the dry humor emery knows so well. her dark eyes lift, meeting emery’s with a look that’s almost apologetic but not quite. noor isn’t the apologizing type, especially not for things like this. not for working, not for showing up tired. she shifts her weight, crossing her arms, the tension in her shoulders softening just a fraction as she takes in emery’s playful gesture. ❝ a night in? you're learning! ❞ noor crosses her arms, her voice warm, if still threaded with exhaustion. she lets the words linger for a second, her gaze softening as she adds, ❝ only if you promise to pick something truly, irredeemably bad. i'm thinking reality TV levels of brain-rotting. I don’t want to think about anything remotely intelligent tonight after that five hour whipple. ❞

lexie pauses for a moment, her hands steady despite the rush of irritation that flares in her chest. she’s heard it before—the same reckless, impassioned spiel from buzzy, but this time it feels different, somehow. she doesn’t look up immediately, focusing instead on the precise stitching she’s making, allowing the silence to sit in the air. when she finally lifts her eyes to meet his, there’s a mixture of warmth and exasperation in her expression. ❝ buzzy . . .❞ she starts, her voice soft but firm. ❝ i get it. i do. you want to make a difference, to be the hero, to do the big thing. but you don’t get to just throw your body in front of danger because it feels right. you’re not invincible. no one is. ❞ her hand moves to adjust his arm, her fingers brushing over the wound, making sure it’s properly cleaned, and though she’s gentle, there’s something in the way she handles him that’s a bit sharper, a little more direct. she doesn’t need to say the words aloud—he knows she’s tired. she’s exhausted from long shifts, from people who think their work is more important than their health, from people like him who keep pushing their limits because they can’t accept a moment of weakness. (from worrying about the people she loves. like him.) ❝ you’re right about one thing, ❞ she continues, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly, though it’s not a smile. it’s something else, something that only he would understand. ❝ do love this job. and yes, it’s dangerous, and I put myself in harm’s way every single day. but i do it because it matters. because people depend on me. and you’re right, if someone told me to stop, i couldn’t. i’m not built for anything else. ❞ she hesitates, eyes narrowing just a bit. ❝ but that’s different. you’re not me. you have choices. you could walk away. you could let someone else do the running and take care of the rest. but— ❞ she stops, sighing as she finishes a stitch, looking into his eyes and waiting for him to respond, to convince her.

noor's smile is light as a feather, but there's a knowing warmth in her eyes as she watches him—his awkwardness, the way he tries to deflect with humor, all of it reminding her a little too much of herself when she first stepped into this city, hoping to be seen, to be recognized for the work she does. she leans in a smidge, long fingers cradling the coffee cup in her hands, letting it warm her nearly broken fingers back to life as she listens. ❝ yeah, i was second—sorry, third row on the left ❞ she remembers watching him, in awe. ❝ honestly, I thought I'd have to fight off a crowd of your fans or something —— not sit across from you like this. it's like you had a secret identity or something. ❞ her smile widens a little as she notices the way he tries to cover his unease with jokes, but she lets it slide—she’s been there too many times herself. (re: a mess in her first surgical or...) ❝ as for surgery, that's me. dr. saleem, though just a resident. ❞ her eyes dart down to his knees, laughing. ❝ plastic surgery? hm, i have to say that's not my area of expertise, but i'd never rule it out for you! i might have some tips on how to keep those knees from getting any worse, if you're really set on getting taller. ❞ she teases him, standing up on her tiptoes to create the illusion of being taller than the young surgeon she is. ❝ why would you need to change anything about yourself? watching you on that play was . . . wonderful. you just have that raw talent everyone wants. ❞