SILVER FORKED SKY.

@silverskies - Spencer & Eve

it is surprising to no one that eve has avoided spencer where she can over the last two months -- which, admittedly, is easier said than done when he's her resident, and she's often found trailing behind him on the surgical floor. dodging him at the hospital is practically impossible, but outside of work? easy. apparently not tonight, though. the familiar voice breaking through the noise of the bar prompts an eyeroll. eve and spencer had met in this exact spot many times before -- drinks, banter, leaving together. it feels like a lifetime ago, not barely three months. brow arches as she turns to him, surprised spencer had approached her at all. "i am, actually." eve answers matter of fact, giving him an unimpressed look. "don't you have a wednesday addams or barbie you should be striking out with?"

eve is silently kicking herself, wishing she could have swallowed things down and let herself enjoy their night without getting in her own head. their relationship isn't perfect, and there's still so much to figure out -- but addressing what's going on in her head rather than pushing it down is what the rational part of her knows she has to do. the only reason everything fell apart was her trying to put up a facade and pretend the ache in her chest doesn't exist; she owes it to him, to herself, to be honest even when it hurts. she gives him a sad smile as he tries to reassure her, hand reaching out to hold his as he moves. it's grounding, reminding her that they're here together -- even if nothing between them is simple anymore, the fact that they're having this conversation at all is a step in the right direction.

she hums, low in her throat and leans back against the bar. "you're making a face." she repeats with a shake of her head. she can practically see the thoughts rolling through ade's head and none of them are particularly flattering as far as her boy... thing goes. she laughs when ade claims she won't ask anymore questions, knowing that that's probably only going to last so long. "i'll believe that when you don't start interrogating me three margaritas in," she points out with a raised brow. and then even though she had been the one wanting to end the conversation, she finds herself word vomiting. "i don't know. maybe it's stupid but it feels... different right now." she cringes at herself and the cliche, knowing she would be yelling about how men are never different if she was in the other seat. "like he's actually trying and i don't want to pretend that doesn't count for something." she shrugs, throwing back the rest of her drink. "but if it all goes to shit you get to say i told you so — and you love that part."

— who: eve & miller (@silverskies) — prompt: your methods are sloppy and your conclusions are highly questionable.

when something goes wrong in their house, the first call eve, priya or sienna makes is to their unofficial handy-man, miller. it's a role he probably didn't want to take on, but in the last three months he's become their go-to on if something stops working -- tonight's event being the strange noise in their sink, and whatever is blocking it from draining. her nose wrinkles, arms crossed over her chest as she talks to half of miller's body -- eve watches as she works under the sink, giving him a look when he sticks his head out. "we both know for the sake of this rental, it's better if you're under the sink." she points out, a bit entertained by her own words. "personally, i wouldn't have tossed the lysol across the room." it's an exaggeration at best, her laughter making it clear she's just giving him shit. "still questionable, though." her eyes narrow, leaning towards him as she speaks.

thalia's scalpel stills for half a second — not long enough for anyone to really notice, but long enough for her to feel like she's having a miniature stroke. she doesn't even look up, doesn't give him the satisfaction of a flinch and just tilts her head slightly to get a better look at what she's doing. "silas isn't my boss," she reminds him — the use of coop's first name slipping out of old habit –  and somedays it feels like sullivan is barely even her boss, though he's certainly trying to reassert that. "just because he says jump doesn't mean i have to say how high. i told sullivan i had a meeting with a patient about their spot on the unos list — even he isn't heartless enough to tell me to bail on a guy waiting on a set of lungs. i don't need to be sleeping with someone to get out of anything." she sets her scalpel down, holds a hand out for the scrub nurse to hand her a set of forceps. and then because she feels a little bad for getting defensive with cyrus, who she does generally like, she continues. "we're old friends — or something like that. we were together briefly during my residency." and then about a hundred times since then, but she's not about to go into that.

"yeah, he's not mine, either." cyrus points out with an eyeroll, though the use of the man's actual first name doesn't go unnoticed. "silas, huh?" he arches a brow, giving her an entertained look. "sullivan may not be heartless, but they're both fuckin' jackasses. you'd be jumpin' if they were threatening to fire you, too." her defensiveness is unexpected; though neither miss a beat as they move. "or something like that, sure." he nods, arching his brow. her tone, the evasiveness -- it reminds cyrus of him and dinah. their love lives aren't really a topic he and thalia talk about much, but he doesn't let up just yet. had this been anyone else, cyrus would have stopped responding by now. he knows thalia well enough to have his curiosity piqued. maybe he's been working too many shifts with indira -- either way, he makes a mental note to ask di later if she's heard anything. "clamp. i'm calling bullshit." he states blatantly, giving her a look as the nurse places the instrument in his hand.

he let out a little laugh, trying to appear unbothered by her little jab. "got it, no bathroom talk. i’ll save those details for someone who appreciates the full picture," and he was sure that someone around here would. "and for the record, my ass kissing game is strategic. you start too early, it looks desperate. you time it right, you look confident, duh," he explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. do really think that i don't know how to ass kiss? because i'm kinda offended at that notion."

she gives him a look, knowing evan is trying to crack a joke -- but adrienne isn't interested in hearing any more about his bowels. "never any bathroom talk. i never want that full picture, keller. like, ever. save it for spencer." ade suggests, brow arching at him. "isn't desperate the resident motto?" there's laughter in her tone, signaling that she's partially joking. "'cause if you had a latte, i'd consider letting you in the or." it's not entirely true; he'll be scrubbing in with her later regardless, but ade doesn't like missing a chance to mess with him. she shrugs a shoulder at the question, not wanting to giving him an actual answer -- truthfully, evan is one of her go-to residents, considering his interest in plastics. she doesn't want him over confident, though. "you've lost your edge."

“yeah,” she hummed. “i’ve been told that before.” she was irritated, cyrus wasn’t the source, but he sure as fuck wasn’t helping. on days like this indira goes back to her old day dream of not coming back to work, to just saying fuck it and finishing her book and leaving everyone else behind. but she’s created roots, and if you told recently graduated indira that she would’ve laughed in your face, because this was just supposed to be a job, but here she was now. leaning on her elbows as she stared at her best friend’s something — situationship? boyfriend? — indira had no clue and she wasn’t in the mood to poke that bear, but then cyrus was talking. “coo — sorry dr. cooperman? dr. cooperman has got you acting like this?”

indira's combative tone doesn't phase him, the two going toe to toe plenty of times in the past. this is probably one of their more civil conversations, despite the fact that anyone watching would probably assume one of them will start yelling in the next few minutes. "yeah, dr. cooperman, the annoying fuckin' head of cardio. he's lodged himself up my ass." he clarifies with an eye roll, as if it's not obvious -- cyrus can't help but assume most of the hospital staff, aside from interns, were on the same page as him when it came to the man in question. "want me to spell it out for you?"

“You mean Elijah,” he corrects. He knows that one at least. The kid’s been stopping by cardio, trying to hop on cases— or maybe Spencer told him to. He’s not sure. Coop’s been enjoying himself as he jumps from thing to thing, but clearly, Cyrus isn’t enjoying Coop’s latest jump around. Sighing, Coop crosses his arms over his chest, fingers tapping his bicep as he takes in Cyrus. “Actually, you do need me to check on you, or you wouldn’t have been pulled in for re-training. Look, I’m not here to get you fired, but if you’re asking me, you’re going to do that all by yourself,” he warns, his tone still casual. Like it or not, Cyrus wouldn’t be anything off Coop’s back if he did get fired. This whole 'fuck you' to the new guy wasn't going to win him any favors.

"elijah, yeah." he answers as if that had been what he said originally. eyes roll as the man looks at him like a disappointed father -- cyrus imagine if his stuck around the look would feel more familiar. regardless, a frustration blooms in his chest, though he stands his ground. while it's clear cyrus doesn't like the man in front of him -- he maintains his poker face, even if he's a volcano that's about to erupt. "not looking to get me fired, right." he nods, unsure what coop is looking for in this conversation, aside from scolding the younger man. "just here to breathe down my neck," he points out, turning his attention back to the chart he'd been working on. "do you actually need something, cooperman? i'm busy."

dinah certainly isn't going to complain about making the most of a night off. when his arm wraps around her again, she hums, leans into it unconsciously. "your girl, huh?" she hums, voice light but her eyes flicker back to him with something softer. there's always been something about cyrus that makes him hard to get a read on, always saying something like it's half joke, half truth and he's afraid of saying it outloud. sometimes it feels like just when she's got him figured out, he does something to pull the rug out from under her. so she knows he had probably wanted her to just let that go but she wants to push him right now — she figures he'll either finally say something completely honest or she'll at least get to drink expensive champagne and watch him squirm for a minute.

cyrus never fails to seize up in moments like this, constantly caught between being calmed by dinah and squirming when she points things out. your girl, huh? he hates the way his chest tightens a bit as she says the words back, though the look in her eye eases it just as quickly. his hand moves against her lower back, sipping a bit more champagne (admittedly, to calm his nerves) before answers. "my girl, yeah." he answers, trying to resist the urge to crack a joke or break a nice moment. while he struggles to say so and commit, he does want this with her -- dinah's the only person he wants to come home to, even if he's too chickenshit to actually admit it.

"dr. cooperman is an excellent teacher, you'll learn a lot from him." tess is quick to praise coop, knowing that eve and everyone else are probably hearing a million and one conflicting opinions on him. she gets it — he's been brought in essentially as a scare tactic to everyone's job security and he's being a hard ass, but she's been friends with him a long time. he's a good guy. she has faith he'll do right by the hospital. she smiles a little more when eve calls her hardcore, humming in agreement. "i think it's a case where two things can be true at once." after her mother's death to cervical cancer, tess had always seen herself focusing on ob but once she'd gotten into fetal and neonatal medicine, she'd found herself unable to let go, wanting to follow cases after the birth so she had found herself stepping into a surgical residency and eventually her pediatric fellowship. it had been a long and exhausting path, but the right one for her, she thinks. "of course," she repeats with a soft smile. "if that's still how you feel when it gets closer, i can help you make some connections, make some recommendations." she lets a beat pass. "or if you choose to stay at pvmc, that just means you'll be with me for a long time."

there's been quite a bit of gossip about dr. cooperman since his arrival a month prior -- eve tried to reserve any judgment, considering he's apparently a close friend of tess and cole. it doesn't change the fact that he seems to have pissed off a majority of the attendings at pine valley, though. "is it true that he's making a bunch of attendings go to a teaching class?" eve can't help but ask; she'd heard the rumors, but had been to scared to ask any of the attendings involved -- it's not like they were known for their kind attitudes and openness.

with eve done torturing her via detangling, sienna is free to stand from her place on the floor. she stretches dramatically, her hip popping in a way that should be concerning for a twenty-six year old, but she ignores that and moves to sit on the other end of the couch instead, her back against the arm and her legs crossed in front of her. "you did?" she asks quietly and it isn't so much judgemental as it is curious and surprised. "i always thought it was like... mutual." and she'd never been brave enough to outright ask, seeing as eve had been so skittish about the entire thing. "taking it slow is probably the smartest thing," she agrees with a nod of her head. "but i do have to ask..." her eyebrows knit together just slightly, pausing long enough to try to choose her words carefully. "if you ended it before, why do you think it will be different now?"

as sienna stands, eve tucks her legs under her and pulls a pillow in her lap. she can't help the laugh that follows the sound of bones popping -- they've been working such long shifts since their internship started, and even more so since the promise of restructuring, which more often leads to things popping and cracking every time they stretch. it doesn't surprise her that sienna has questions; they haven't talked much on the details of their budding relationships, or the further details of why things ended between her and eli originally. eve had been purposeful in her vagueness, mostly based in embarrassment -- the only one, aside from eli, who's heard all of the dirty details is her therapist. i always thought it was like... mutual. clearly, eli hasn't said much either. even can appreciate that, nodding as her best friend asks the obvious next question: why do you think it will be different now?

eyes roll, hand waving away her comment with clear annoyance. the last thing he wants is to be in this situation; having to deal with coop and sullivan and their bullshit -- it helps once they're on the elevator, feeling as though he doesn't have to hold his tongue. as much, at least. cyrus had a lack of respect when it came to authority, but he'd been at this career long enough to know when to bite his tongue. it didn't happen often; only with someone like the chief, who could send him packing without a second thought. (that has never stopped him mouthing off, though) arms cross as they stand in the elevator, giving zoya an annoyed look. "none of these dipshits would cut it in trauma." he adds with a huff. "doubt any of 'em would last anywhere that's not fuckin' dermatology."

margot’s hands move with their usual deliberate rhythm as her scalpel slices through tissue easily, but her attention isn’t fully on the patient. it lingers on adrienne as she fumbles through her vague recount of the morning, her voice tight and careful. it’s impossible not to notice the stiffness in her shoulders and the faint flush above her mask, the subtle hitch in her breath. margot says nothing through it all, just simply lends the other woman a gentle smile beneath her mask that carries the intention of making adrienne feel seen, special. it’s becoming increasingly more clear that she’s already eager for margot’s approval — an almost mirror image of hollis before she broke free from her — and she doesn’t know it yet, but she is the do-over. she’s the newest in margot’s collection of eager young women to shape and claim, to bend exactly as she sees fit without fear of rebellion and the complications of an increasingly messy history.

for a split second, taren's totally on board — this class they've been forced into sucks and she fucking hates that any part of her ability to do her job has come into question. but what good would it do to drive away another cardio attending? iyer is long lost to the void thanks to his controlling wife and if they lose this guy, taren's almost more afraid of who would come next. it's not that cooperman's a bad guy — she's just not used to feeling dogged like this, though she knows that's mostly sullivan's fault. still, iyer trusted her even if he knew her methods were unconventional, and he basically let taren do whatever the fuck she wanted. clearly, that isn't going to fly anymore. "he just needs to learn to back off." taren's quick to unzip the pocket of her bag and lo and behold — cigarettes. she's quick to pick two out, handing one over to cyrus and lighting the other until finally, sweet fucking relief. "i mean, this is pure bullshit and i'm not running a fucking daycare service for the residents no matter how much he pushes, but we just like, have to stand our ground. sullivan's not gonna fire all of us." he'd definitely fire her insubordinate ass, but taren keeps that thought to herself.

now that there's more physical space between them and the conference room, he can feel his anger begin to boil -- as if being outside of the hospital means he can let himself react. cooperman, with all his do-gooder bullshit, often leaves cyrus with his jaw clenched and nails digging into his palms; he's gone along with the bullshit classes they have to take, knowing better than to blow up completely and be the first to get fired. "you know he's not gonna back off," cyrus points out with an eyeroll, taking the cigarette without question. "he's not some overeager intern." he adds, taking the lighter from her. shaking his head, he lights the cigarette between his teeth and takes a long drag. the burn in his lungs is a relief, smoke pushing past his lips before he answers her. "you really believe that?" cyrus can't help but ask, having a feeling taren is just spouting bullshit in hopes of making herself feel better. "'cause i'm pretty sure he'd fire us all if he could. clean house and shit." it's a bleak way to look at things, but he knows it's plausible -- a logistical nightmare of hiring new people and a mountain of paperwork, but if he wanted to send a message about restructuring, that would do it.