prcttyminds

[prcttyminds]

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[prcttyminds]

“I don’t need a medal, got a living masterpiece as proof.” She chuckled briefly and motioned towards the scar she’d stitched up last time. “Besides… what’s a medal compared to a rare almost smile of the one and only, Eoin Riley?” The corners of her lips twitched into a playful smirk while she winked at him, a soft tease. At his remark about the past being stubborn and not listening to reason, she quirked her brow. “Huh, sounds familiar. Are you two related somehow?”

Not even that impossibly inscrutable look on his face could shake her, even though she knew better than to mess with this man. “I’ve imagined worse.” She assured him, her voice gentle and soft. “Looks like I just discovered one of your secret talents, haven’t I?” Leyla mocked softly, before her expression turned just a little more serious at his next words. “I’ll do my best to stay on your good one.”

There must have been something in the air that drew out a playful side of her she didn’t even know existed. She held his gaze, the glint in her eyes silently accepting the faint challenge in his words. “You tell me. Better don’t. Remember who’s surgical table you’ll be lying on again soon enough” A genuine laugh followed her little joke while she finished packing up.

“Why not? We’ll just have to run faster than the cloud and if all else fails, we can always dance in the rain.” Leyla meant that but she wasn’t going to push it either, when he dismissed the idea. Then, when he’d mentioned the other patient again, her gaze lifted to search his own. A blend of surprise and gratitude surged through her at his words. Maybe they should have scared her or at least intimidated her, knowing who he was and what he was implying but oddly enough, they didn’t. If anything it felt good to know he had her back. Considering not even her family did, it meant a lot. “Careful now, you keep talking like that, I’ll start to feel special.” She grinned over at him but she wasn’t naive enough to actually believe it. They could say a lot about the Rileys but they always looked out for their own. Not that she considered herself one of them. But in a way they were the closest thing to family she got here.

And there it was. Something that looked almost like a smile. Brief but still there. Probably her greatest accomplishment of the day. “Don’t worry, wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of your weak day.” Then she paused, lips slightly pressed together for a second. “Or maybe I should. Who knows if there will ever be another one again.” Her laugh filled the air, delightful and fleeting but unfeigned. “There’s a first for everything, Eoin. It’s about time I show you what you’ve been missing out on.“ It was more of a promise than it was a warning but there was still a slightly teasing undertone in her voice when she opened the locker and looked over her shoulder. “Either you won’t get enough of it or you’ll find it’s not for you but at least you can say you tried.”

This was probably the longest he’d ever looked at her before averting his gaze. It was unusual but not uncomfortable, as her eyes remained locked on his own, waiting for him to argue but he didn’t. I like this obedient streak of yours, she mused in her mind but didn’t say it. She got changed quickly, without double checking if he really wasn’t looking, just trusting he wouldn’t. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. And he didn’t disappoint. “A true gentleman. Otherwise I wouldn’t get undressed with you still in the room. But I figured it was saver this way than giving you the chance to run before I had my dinner.”

As soon as she was decent again, she slipped into her shoes, a pair of pumps. She adjusted her hair lazily but didn’t bother brushing it properly. “Almost.” The word barely left her lips, before she turned her back to him, revealing the open zipper of her dress. “It seems to be stuck. Mind giving me hand?”

“Letting me take the lead already? I don’t mind that.” She chuckled lightheartedly whilst stepping out of the consulting room. The strange looks of Eoin’s men didn’t go unnoticed and she could only imagine what they might have been thinking, but she couldn’t care less. Leyla gave them a faint, friendly smile, before she leaned towards Eoin, whispering in a low tone of voice. “They’re not tagging along, are they?” A relieved sigh escaped her at the sight of them disappearing. “The haunting of Eoin Riley. Sounds tempting! Don’t give me ideas.”

Eoin huffed softly, not quite a laugh but near enough. “Don’t go lettin’ it swell your head. I said you were good with a needle, not that you’d win a medal for it.” Still, the corner of his mouth tugged upward, just a fraction, and it stayed there even as she joked about teaching the past some manners. “Good luck with that. Far as I can tell, it’s a stubborn bastard that doesn’t listen to reason.”

Her impression of him sulking earned her a long, deadpan look across the desk. “Don’t hurt yourself, now, picturing it. I’m very good at it, I’ll have you know.” A faint pause, then he tipped his chin slightly. “But aye. Keep clear of my bad side. It’s not half as entertainin’ as the good one.”

The shift in her eyes didn’t escape him—not much did—but he didn’t rise to the bait. Not directly, anyway. “Underestimated you, have I? That’d be a mistake I wouldn’t make twice.” The words came quiet, carrying a weight that was half challenge, half promise.

When she teased about his “friend,” his brows knit for a breath, then eased. “Bring him along?” He let out a low scoff. “Doubt you’d want him at your table. Bastard’s got a black cloud followin’ him wherever he goes.” He flicked the idea aside with a hand, though there was a glint of something harder under the dismissal. Her admission about the patient drew his gaze steady again. “Accident or not, man puts hands on you, he’s lucky it ended where it did. Next one won’t.” He didn’t dress the words up; they were simple fact. It was the least the Rileys could do for the woman who stitched up their wounds; make sure she didn't get any of her own.

Her surprise at his agreement drew the closest thing to a smile yet, brief but honest. “Don’t get used to it. You caught me on a weak day.” At the mention of falafels, his brow arched, suspicion laced with curiosity. “Falafels, is it? Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. But if they’re nearly as good as your mam’s, I’d best brace myself.”

When she told him to turn around, he gave her a long look first—like he might argue on principle—but then he obeyed, shifting so his back was to her. His hands fiddled absently with the unopened cigarette pack, a twitch of restraint. “No peeking,” he echoed dryly. “What sort of man d’you take me for?” Still, there was something about the request that sat oddly with him. Trust, casual and easy, wasn’t something he found often, and it stuck with him longer than it should have.

He rose when she gave the all-clear, smoothing his jacket into place. “Ready, then. Lead on. But if this place of yours poisons me, I’m comin’ back to haunt you.” He opened up the door to the hallway, giving his men a nod that was the Riley version of at-ease, and watched them disperse, as he waited for her to follow.

[prcttyminds]

"You are! And anyone who doesn't agree with me clearly hasn't met you yet." Leyla grinned playfully. To her Zara was the best and no one could ever convince her otherwise anyway. "Honestly, they should. Maybe we should get you your very own autograph cards. But the first one is just for me, just so we're clear." She laughed while straightening up a little. "Most of them are. But not all of them are the same. There are some exceptions." For a moment, her mind drifted a little, then she chuckled at her own imagination. "Can you picture your boss on a leash? I think he'd be taking me for a walk, not the other way around, despite the leash."

While she poured some sun screen onto her hands and rubbed it into her skin, she listened to Zara's words about home and she felt the same way her friend did. "I think it's natural. It would be strange if we didn't get homesick now and then. But... we're here for a reason. Or do you ever think about going back?" She was genuinely curious about her answer though Leyla wouldn't trade her newfound life in LA if she had the chance to, that much she knew. Reaching out for her friend's hand, she squeezed it tight with a heartfelt "aweee now you're the one making my heart swell, canim." Once she handed Zara the sun screen, she shook her head quickly. "Please, I wouldn't return you for a million dollars."

Her eyes hovered over the view of the ocean before them as she thought about her short list. "Yeah but those two count for ten and the one on the verge of getting onto it, don't even get me started on that one." She mused lightheartedly. "I reserve the list for the worst of them. The rest, I just avoid, gotta give Karma a little break sometimes too." Zara was a gifted actress indeed but Leyla wasn't sure she could pull off a simple acting attempt herself. "I'd probably fail miserably. If my acting shocked is half as bad as my attempts to convince a man I'm taken, oh dear." This was what she loved most about Zara, her ability to make the most mundane moments special, and always with the most contagious laughter she'd ever seen.

"Yep only for the rich and beautiful. The must have in Hollywood." Her smile widened even further, while she made a mental note to remember the pistachios for her birthday. "I'll just have to make them every year then, until the end of time. To make sure you won't leave me stranded in this city all by myself." In all honesty, Leyla didn't even want to imagine a life without Zara in it anymore, who'd become another sister from a different mister to her.

Of course she noticed the change in Zara's expression. "Is that a promise? In that case I might have to intentionally skip dinner now and then. Just so you come visit me and whisk me away from work. But beware, some of my patients have no shame." As she listened to Zara talking about her job, she couldn't help but admire her even more. "Drunks are the worst to deal with. I don't know how you can do that every night. I'd lose it after the first shift for sure." Then again, the part about the stories people told when they had too much alcohol in their systems did sound interesting. "Sounds like you've been digging up some dirt." A mischievous grin spread across her lips whilst leaning a bit closer. "I honestly don't mind being underestimated. It can be useful."

Zara let out a dramatic groan and flopped onto her side, tossing an arm over her eyes as though she’d been struck down. “Prettiest and most talented, you say? Darling, you’re going to give me a swelled head. People will start charging admission just to talk to me at the club.” She peeked at her friend with a grin, then dropped her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, my boss doesn’t need to hunt you down. If you baked him something once, he’d be on your leash. Men are simple creatures—feed them, flatter them, and they forget their own names.”

She plucked at a loose thread on the blanket, her smile lingering softer this time. “You’re right though… home’s what we make it. Doesn’t mean I don’t still get a little homesick now and then. But then there’s days like this. You, me, the ocean, and food that isn’t boiled to death the way some people make it. It makes it easier.” She tapped her finger lightly against Leyla’s knee. “You’re stuck with me now, sorry. No returns.”

The mention of a 'short list' made Zara laugh outright, sharp and delighted. “Two people? That’s practically saintly. I’ve got at least five, and that’s just from last week. You’re making me look bad.” She shifted up onto one elbow, eyes glittering with mischief. “Acting classes, huh? Please. We don’t need lessons—we’re naturals. If anyone can fake shock at bad men finally getting what they deserve, it’s us.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, letting out a theatrical gasp that dissolved into more laughter.

“A Zara special edition, though…” She pretended to mull it over, squinting at the horizon like she was calculating stock prices. “Yes. I like the sound of that. Exclusive, rare, impossible to afford.” Her eyes softened, teasing fading just enough to show something earnest. “And if pistachio shows up on my birthday, I’ll swear on my life to stay alive for at least another year. I promise.”

When Leyla dodged with that vague 'busy', Zara narrowed her eyes, mock suspicious, but let it slide with a shrug. “Mmhm. I’ll let you keep your little doctor secrets. But I’m watching you. If I catch you skipping dinners, I’ll come stand at your work and heckle you until you eat something. No one escapes me when it comes to food. Consider me your honorary Syrian Teta”

She leaned back again, arms behind her head. “As for me? The club’s the same circus as always. Boys trying to impress girls, girls pretending they’re impressed. Drunks thinking they’re philosophers after two martinis. I swear, I should start charging extra for listening to bad poetry slurred at me over the bar.” She tilted her head toward Leyla with a sly smile. “But between you and me… some nights, it’s the side conversations that are worth more than the tips. People talk too much when they think a waitress is just a pair of legs with a smile and a tray.”

[prcttyminds]

There was something about this woman that fascinated her in more ways than one. She was both charming and intimidating in a very unique way and Leyla couldn't help but feel the pressure upon her shoulders as she listened to Maeve, despite her carefully chosen words. "Let's just say, my job is even more interesting than I could have ever imagined. Sometimes it feels like straight out of a Hollywood movie." It may have sounded a little exaggerated but it really wasn't. Between the violent side of their business and the questionable side activities or hobbies some of her family members pursued, she would probably be labeled as insane, if she ever told anyone about it. Leyla couldn't hide the slight hint of concern reflected in her eyes when Mrs. Riley spoke about her well being. She could tell the other woman was not okay but she didn't contradict her either. Instead, she just nodded slightly. "I'll prescribe you something different. Sometimes the body gets used to the ingredients after a while. But please be mindful and follow the instructions." It was merely a suggestion but one she was hoping would be followed. "Have you told anyone? Sometimes it helps to talk about it to someone you trust." Leyla didn't want to overstep but she was genuinely worried about Maeve's condition and the fact she was keeping it from her family.

A very vigilant gaze remained ever taut on the doctor’s own, all the while Maeve listened to her every word attentively. Crimson painted lips, matching the color of her neatly manicured nails, faintly softened at the corners, evoking half a smile, soon followed by an amused laughter. “Busy is a nice way to put it. Very creative indeed. I can only imagine.” Upon the indication of her very own medical condition, a sheer layer of something more serious, more dreadful washed over her facial expression. Only because she allowed it to. “I’ve been quite alright.” A white lie. Maeve leaned in a notch, her voice dropping significantly lower in order to ensure not a single soul was able to listen in. “However, I’ll need you to prescribe me something different. Stronger. This weather is not exactly favorable for my situation.” There was no doubt her headaches worsened gradually, nevertheless she could not and would not show her discomfort to anyone but her medical staff.

[prcttyminds]

"I'd say, we got a plan! We'll publish it under an alias and we'll change the names of the test person. That way, it could be anyone and our mothers will never know." Leyla chuckled again, imagining her mom's face when she read the book. "They always recognize when someone else is following that same pattern but never see themselves in them." She brushed her hair out of her face and smiled back at Rosa. "That prize is ours! We just need to hide it, otherwise it would reveal our secret."

She nodded at Rosa's words and her thoughts immediately drifted back to Istanbul, to her childhood memories and her family back home. "They want to read about everyone else's drama to escape their own for a bit. It's understandable but also sad." Leyla laughed at the suggestion of a fake cover for the book. "That's a great idea but if it says gardening, my mother will be all over it. She loves her plants. Make it about something she won't even bother to look at. Like... I don't know. Medicine or treatments. That way we're on the safe side." She explained, her mother never shared her passion for the medical field after all.

No doubt, this woman could probably tell when someone was flirting from a mile away. Leyla on the other hand rarely every realized it, unless someone was downright hitting at her and even then, chances were she wouldn't get it. Anything else she just dismissed with a they're just trying to be nice kind of demeanor. "What's wrong with being soft? Let them see your soft side, it's too pretty to hide it away."

"Mhm you're right. If the connection is only superficial without any real depth, you're definitely better off without Mr. talented hips." She couldn't help but giggle, although she meant every word she said. There was no time in her life to even think about dating, let alone wasting them with someone who was just a pretty shell. Her expression turned more serious again, as she listened to Rosa's next words. "Most people can't stand it and yet they do feel pity for someone else too. It's a never ending cycle, unless we break out of it."

A sigh fell from her lips and she wished her family would see things the way Rosa did. It would have made her life so much easier. "Tell that to my family. They'll never get it." No matter how hard they tried to convince her otherwise, she would never change her mind about the path she chose. Even if it wasn't always easy. "Dangerous? Please, I couldn't even hurt a fly."

Rosa’s laugh was quick and delighted. “See? Now you’re talking. We’ll publish our findings in some prestigious medical journal—Maternal Fixation Syndrome: the silent epidemic. You’ll handle the case studies,I'll handle the marketing. Maybe we’ll get a Nobel Prize… or just a stern letter from our mothers.” She tilted her head, mock-thoughtful. “Honestly, the unwanted advice part should be in bold print.”

At Leyla’s realism about Istanbul, Rosa gave a knowing hum. “Guess that’s the curse of every city worth writing about—people only want the postcard version. The rest? They skip right over it like a scene that doesn’t match the mood.” She rifled through the rest of the produce in front of them, trying to figure out what was worth taking. “Chavez Ravine didn't have a single corner that would make it into the tourist brochures either. And that’s fine. We just learn to see beauty where it’s actually lived in, not polished.”

When Leyla mentioned refusing to marry for someone to cook for, Rosa smirked. “Good. Never do anything just to make your mother happy, unless it’s eat seconds of her cooking. I mean—sure, I got married, but that was because the man made me laugh before he made me mad. That’s a rare talent.” She paused, the teasing curling in her tone. “And for the record, if you read my scandal-filled book, I’ll personally hand you a fake dust jacket to hide it from your family. Something wholesome, like ‘The Joy of Gardening.’”

Her grin turned sly at Leyla’s blush. “Relax, cariño. If you were flirting, I’d know. And if I were flirting, you’d definitely know. That was just me making sure people don’t think I’ve gone soft.” Rosa leaned in just a little, voice dropping. “But I like honesty. It’s rarer than rhythm in this town.”

The talk of her ex brought a low laugh. “How’d I put up with him? Simple—kept him dancing and out of deep conversation. Once I realized that was all there was to him, I cashed out. Life’s too short to date someone you can’t talk to without checking the clock.”

At Leyla’s firm dismissal of pity, Rosa’s smirk softened. “Good answer. I can handle a lot of things, but not someone feeling sorry for me.” Then she arched a brow at the talk of living without love. “You’re right—it’s not easier. Just… neater. And people like neat. But neat isn’t worth the price. I’d rather live in a mess I chose than a spotless life someone else built for me.”

She bumped Leyla’s shoulder again, this time with a crooked grin. “You being more in love with your job than a man? That’s either the smartest thing I’ve heard all day… or the most dangerous.”

[prcttyminds]

„I’m glad you approve of my stitching skills though.“ She appreciated his words but left them lingering there, just because she didn’t want to dwell on what can no longer be changed. „Well someone’s gotta teach past some manners then.“ Leyla joked with a small shrug of her shoulders but even though it was a dry one, the ghost of a smile never vanished from her lips. „I’m trying not to give it too much power and focus on what’s ahead.“

It was probably a good thing he didn’t read between the lines or maybe he was letting her off easy, she wasn’t sure which of the two options applied. Another light laugh escaped her. „You? sulking? I’m trying to picture that in my head. It’s kind of hard to imagine.“ Leyla made a fake pouting face and couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of it. Sometimes, she almost forgot how intimidating he could be, at least to those who crossed him. „Remind me not to get on your bad side.“

Her teeth briefly graced her bottom lip at his comment, but she didn’t even notice she was biting it, while her eyes remained locked on his own. As a doctor, she was observant enough to notice every little change in his demeanor, even the faintest of motions - and her heart probably skipped a little beat right there, although his words didn’t sound like a warning or dangerous at all. „Mhm… and you might find you’ve underestimated me a little.“ She was only half teasing now but oh the look in her eyes said more than words ever could.

While she cleaned the medical instruments and desk, she listened to his description of his so called friend. „He doesn’t sound too bad to me. Might want to bring him along sometime.“ She teased further, a playful grin playing around the corners of her lips. „Guilty as charged, Sir.“ Leyla admitted when he caught her avoiding his question but she didn’t want anyone to get in trouble because of her. „It was an accident. Not everyone handles my treatments the way you do. Some lose control when in pain. It happens.“

Eoin was full of surprises. Leyla expected him to at least argue about dinner or make a remark about her suggestion. But no. He just agreed. A small part of hell might have just frozen over. Just like that. She was almost shocked but not in a bad way. „Wow. That was easy.“ She chuckled once again, a bit louder this time. „Good. I like this side of yours. In that case, I hope you’re ready for a little taste of 1001 nights.“ Leyla winked at him playfully, hoping he wasn’t a picky eater, though she fully intended on taking him to a little oriental restaurant downtown. It wasn’t everyone’s taste but she loved it. And who knew? Maybe Eoin would enjoy it too. „Their falafels are almost as good as my mom‘s. Almost.“

Once she’d finished cleaning up, she opened the cabinet again, looking over her shoulder at Eoin. „Turn around. And no peeking.“ It had been a long day and she couldn’t wait to finally get out of her working attire. Usually she’d never get changed in front of one of her patients but she trusted him enough to be a gentleman to make an exception. No point in wasting anymore time, she was starving already. Besides, the men who dragged him in earlier were still waiting outside the door. So, before he got a chance to make a run for it, she decided to save herself the trouble of going to the bathroom at the other side of the hallway. Once he complied, she turned her back to him, quickly stepped out of her pants and took off her shirt, before she slipped into a simple summer dress. Nothing too fancy, just comfortable.

„Alright, I’m ready to go.“

Eoin’s mouth pulled into something that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t the usual flat line either. “Aye, we all have ’em,” he said, and left it there. No need to start swapping ghost stories like they were currency. Her comment about being better at patching wounds earned a quiet huff of breath. “From what I’ve seen, you’re not wrong,” he said, though the words carried the weight of someone who didn’t hand out praise lightly. “Still—past’s not always polite enough to stay where you leave it.”

He caught the glint in her eye when she teased about his reputation and just shook his head faintly, leaning back in his chair. “What would I do about it? Probably sulk. Maybe glare at a few people until they remember who they’re dealin’ with.” There was a hint of dry humor there, but the sort that lived in low tones and stayed close to the chest.

The tie you to that bed quip pulled one eyebrow upward. “Careful now,” he said, voice pitched low, not exactly warning, not exactly inviting. “You might find you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.” His coat collar twitched under his fingers, a small tell he didn’t quite bother to hide.

When she pressed about his friend, his gaze slipped toward the far wall. “He's a bastard, aye. But I know for a fact he doesn't take kindly to men beatin' up on women. And don't think I didn't notice that you didn't give an answer."

At her last remark, his jaw shifted like he might deflect, then stilled. “Breakfast, aye,” he admitted. “And you’re right—it’s not enough.” He reached for the cigarette pack on the table, but didn’t open it. “We’ll eat. But you’re pickin’ the place. That way, if it’s terrible, I know who to blame.”

[prcttyminds]

Of course she knew her friend was right and she tried her best to look after herself too but the keyword with Leyla here was: tried. „You’ve got a point. I guess I’ll have to make sure to squeeze in some spare time and dinners more often.“ She agreed, making a mental note to herself to make it a habit. „Patience is not always my bestie either but we can do this. We‘ll just stick together and distract ourselves in the meantime, how does that sound?“

She laughed at Rosalyn‘s comment about her becoming a lawyer. „God forbid. You know I’m a terrible liar and I can’t bluff to save my life! I’d be the worst lawyer the world has ever seen.“ The thought would have never crossed her mind for the same reasons. „The other night there was this unpleasant guy who wouldn’t leave me alone so I told him I was taken but I don’t think he was too convinced. I can’t even pull that off, now imagine me trying to convince the judge of the innocence of a serial killer.“ While she was being very honest and hated to lie, she was good at keeping secrets but that was about it. And it surely wasn’t enough of a skill set to be a good lawyer.

„I feel that. And even if I am, I’m still woken up by some smart ass who got himself hurt, because he tried to be a genius in the middle of the night.“ She chuckled, shaking her head at the mention of one of her patients but without getting into detail. „Oh I didn’t do much, honestly. Just went and stumbled across this stunning lady and got talking about herbs.“ She was still surprised herself but sometimes these things just happened naturally. „It depends on the person you run into of course.“ Leyla added quickly, since she knew not everyone was that friendly. Now that Ros brought it up, she thought about the cooking class she’d read about a while ago. „Actually, there’s supposed to be cooking classes on Saturdays at Mel‘s restaurant with their chef. We could join them if you’d like? I bet it would be fun and useful at the same time.“

Leyla‘s smile widened at her friend‘s offer and she pulled her into another half hug. „You’ll be the first to try any new things I cook or bake. Pinky promise!“

"it's hard putting yourself first, but sometimes you have to, right?" something she knew layla battled often with. ros could understand why she found it difficult sometimes, especially considering her job. ros also struggled at times, wanting to put work first for whatever reason, but the burnout was real when it hit. "thanks ley," she smiled, "i've just gotta keep being patient, as hard as that is for me." she let out a dry, self-deprecating chuckle.

ros knew that layla was right again, but she couldn't help feeling like she didn't contribute as much to the world. it was a deep and heavy thing for anyone to be worrying about, and she tried not to be so existential about life, but sometimes those thoughts crept in. she brushed them aside. "well, when you put it like that i just can't disagree with you. did you ever consider becoming a lawyer? i think you'd be good at it. compelling arguments and all that." ros was joking, but was also a tiny bit serious.

"sometimes i'm not even sleeping, ley, honestly." she laughed, knowing just how many times she's pulled all-nighters at home whilst poring over some book or information she'd managed to collect while working. looking for any loophole or shred of information that could help her follow the breadcrumbs of whatever she was chasing.

"you need to teach me how you make friends with people at the market. although sharing recipes sounds like it could be a pretty good start. i'll have to learn some recipes." ros was by no means devoid of social skills, quite the opposite, but sometimes she went too hard on the questioning and spent less time listening. "i'm definitely prepared to be your guinea pig for anything new you're making though. sign me up!"

[prcttyminds]

She was relieved at the stranger’s kind approach. It could have been different, especially out here, in the middle of nowhere, in the hills, way before most people even started their days. While Leyla was always the optimist, she wasn’t naive either. “What brought you to this part of the world? If you don’t mind me asking.” Obviously, just like herself, he’d come a long way and she was curious as to what made him trade Italy for LA. „Are you an actor or something? I happen to run into quite a few these days.“ This city seemed to be a magnet for upcoming and rising stars and those, who wanted to be famous- and well… those who worked for people like the ones she’d been working for too. But she didn’t want to assume anything.

Her eyes followed his movements and she raised one of her brows at his explanation of the trail, trying to picture it in her mind. „I don’t mind a bit of a hike. As long as it gets me back to where I know my ways around.“ She chuckled with a small shrug of her shoulders. Leyla thought about his offer for a moment, just weighing her options. Did she even have any? Eventually, she nodded briefly and offered another kind smile. „If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it. Just in case. Can’t be careful enough these days, I suppose.“ With that, she took in the gorgeous view one last time, before she turned around to the trail that lead back to the city. „Okay, I’m ready when you are, tour guide.“

"Living and breathing, yes." Maurizio couldn't help but notice the brief flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, and he found himself intrigued by the woman who had so unknowingly stumbled upon him. Her smile was like the first light of dawn, tentative yet promising, and he felt his own tension ease further in her presence. "Stunning indeed," the Italian agreed, his gaze lingering on the panorama before returning to her. "No apologies needed. Interruptions don’t necessarily have to be a bad thing." He offered her a more genuine smile, one that reached his eyes and softened the hard lines of his facial features.

The bodyguard turned and gestured to the path that led back down the hill, the one that she had unknowingly taken to find this spot without intending on it. "If you follow this trail, it'll take you right to the heart of the city. It's a bit of a hike, but it's all downhill from here," he reassured, his voice filled with a gentle tease. "But if you'd like some company, I don't mind walking with you. Safety in numbers, as they say." His eyes searched hers, curious and open. He wasn't prying, merely making conversation to pass the time.

[prcttyminds]

She tried to brush off the awkward feeling about her accidental confession but she was done patching him up now, so that didn’t serve as a distraction any longer and she could literally feel his gaze on her now. But it didn’t make her frown, weirdly enough it didn’t make her uncomfortable at all. Leyla blinked, lifting her gaze slowly to meet his own once more. “Don’t we all?” She wasn’t trying to deflect or anything. It was just a matter of fact.

Still, for some reason she felt like he knew better than anyone. There was no need to point it out. No need to ask. Just a quiet understanding. “Yeah and let me tell you, I’m a hell of a lot better at patching up wounds. At least I’d like to think that.” Leyla chuckled, displaying another dry joke, although it was the truth. And she appreciated the fact he didn’t make a big deal out of it either, more than she liked to admit. “Some things are better left in the past where they belong. We’ve got a whole life ahead of us to focus on.” She wasn’t sure if she was talking more to him or herself that moment but one way or another it seemed fit.

Sometimes it was almost as if he was reading her mind. One of her brows quirked up when he said he didn’t need people to agree with him, almost as if she was surprised he’d guessed what she was thinking. “Noted. Just make sure you don’t pull that bandage too much, or I’ll have to start all over again and you will be stuck here with me longer than necessary.” It was intended to sound more like a warning but the teasing undertone in her voice begged to differ.

Leyla leaned in slightly, closing some of the distance between them without even realizing, her eyes glinting with a little mischief, as they searched his own. “Ruin your reputation, hu? And what are you going to do about that?” Only then did she notice the words that just slipped came out… wrong? Her alarm bells echoed in her mind. Geez Leyla!! She bit her tongue, but her gaze still remained locked on his the whole time. “I’ll take my chances. If it means your bandage stays clean.”

“Another? That’s a whole lot of conditions to get you to rest.” Leyla laughed lightheartedly, even though she knew she shouldn’t have. “Guess next time I’d do better tying you to that bed.” Something flickered in her eyes she couldn’t quite name, maybe a challenge or a playful warning or something else entirely. “Is your ‘friend’ always this nosy?”

She eyed him closely, watching his reaction. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but something’s telling me, you didn’t eat much more than I have today - which was breakfast. So, how about we grab something for dinner and you tell me more about this friend of yours?”

He didn’t speak at first. Just sat there with the fresh bandage snug around his shoulder, head tipped slightly downward, jaw working like he was grinding his thoughts into dust behind his teeth. Her words played back in his mind—not just the ones meant for him, but the ones she hadn’t meant to say at all. He heard those clearest.

And he recognized the shift when it happened. The moment she started talking about herself. Eoin finally looked over at her, slower this time. Not defensive. Not cold. Just—watching. Measuring. “You’ve got your own ghosts,” he said quietly, like he was naming something he’d spotted long before she’d meant him to. “You talk like someone who’s patched up more than wounds.” He wasn’t prying. Wasn’t asking. Just noting. Acknowledging it in the only way he knew how. A small thread of something more honest cut through his usual dry tone—rough around the edges, but not harsh.

“I don’t need people to agree with me,” he added, one shoulder lifting in a half-shrug that tugged slightly at the bandage. “I just need ‘em to leave well enough alone when I say enough.” But there wasn’t anger behind it now. Only a quiet, bone-deep weariness. Like a man who’d spent too long clawing through his own dark to be dragged into someone else’s version of the light.

He glanced down at the clean shirt she'd set beside him. Let out a short huff—something close to amusement. “Not bad,” he muttered, picking it up with one hand and flipping it once to check the size. “Still too clean. You’ll ruin my reputation.” He tugged it on without ceremony, careful not to stretch the new wound too much. When he was decent again, he reached over to grab his coat, mostly out of habit. Slid it on even though the heat outside would make him sweat.

"I'll get some sleep, but I got one more condition. Does the patient who broke your nose still come around?—Askin' for a friend."

[prcttyminds]

“Only the best for you! I have to make sure you’ll still want to keep me around somehow.” Leyla chuckled lightly at Zara’s endearing words. “Maybe I will one day but your boss would probably hunt me down if I stole his prettiest and most talented employee.”

Her gaze automatically followed Zara’s movement to the shore. “Part of the heart always stays back home but you’re right. This is the second home we chose and it’s on us to make it the place we’re most happy. And you my dear are one of the reasons I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She winked at the other woman with a warm smile upon her lips. “Yuck, gross. Imagine that! The simit really deserved to end up in that pretty belly of yours instead.” Leyla laughed as she joked with her friend.

“Busted! I might have an imaginary list. It’s a very short one. Actually I can only think of two people on it and one who’s on the verge of getting there.” She laughed and nudged her back just as playfully before she braided her hair loosely. “We’ll pretend together. Hey, maybe we should take acting classes just in case?”

Leyla contemplated Zara’s words for a moment, tilting her head to meet her eyes once more. “I’ll make a whole Zara special edition. Only for special customers. Not just anyone can buy it.” She grinned sheepishly and laughed at the mention of how far her friend would go for baklava. “Okay I got it. But the good thing is, you only have to go as far as to my apartment. There won’t be any dangers lurking around the corner either. And who knows, maybe there will be some pistachio ones waiting for you on your birthday - but only if you promise not to die because I still need you alive.”

She took a sip of her water bottle and placed it back into her bag while thinking about her question. “Busy.” It was a short answer but she couldn’t really get into details anyway. For one because of doctor’s confidentiality and of course she couldn’t tell anyone about the things she had to deal with when it came to the Riley’s and their not so legal activities. “I’ve been good with lunch lately.” Leyla defended herself, but the issue was usually dinner anyway since most emergencies came up between the evenings and early mornings. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. But tell me about your work. What’s new? Any interesting stories to tell?”

Zara let out a low whistle, not even trying to hide her admiration. “You spoil me, habibti,” she said, grinning as she leaned back against her elbows. “You show up with baklava, a clean blanket, and a face like that? I’m going to start thinking you’re trying to steal me away from Club Eden.”

She tore off another piece of simit, then motioned lazily toward the shore. “That’s the thing, though. This place isn’t home, not really—but some days, with the right company and the right snacks, it gets close.” Her voice softened for a moment before she shook it off. “And you’re right. That old man’s got no business playing favorites—especially when we’re the ones keeping his store in business. If I hadn’t snagged those simit, some Uncle in suspenders would’ve been chewing on them with half his teeth and all his opinions.”

At the mention of karma, Zara barked a laugh. “Oh, I know you’re still waiting on it to circle back. You’ve got a list, don’t you?” she teased, nudging Leyla with her foot. “Don’t worry. When it finally does come around, I’ll pretend I’m shocked. ‘Oh no, how could such a thing happen to such a terrible man?’” She pressed a hand to her chest in mock horror.

She glanced at her companion, eyes bright. “If you ever do open that bakery, I expect you to name something after me. I don’t care what it is. A cookie, a cake, something sticky and complicated. Like it's namesake.” Then, with mock gravity, she added, “How far would I go for your baklava? Leyla, I would cross deserts. I would brave the line at Langer's on a Sunday. I would listen to a man explain jazz like he invented it.” She gave a playful shrug. “And that’s just for the regular batch. If you ever made pistachio—forget it. I’d die for it.”

Her eyes lingered on her friend a moment longer, softer now. “Now, how has work been? Please tell me my argument for you actually taking your lunches was successful. You're going to wear yourself out, otherwise."

[prcttyminds]

“We could invent one. Who knows we might make history as the next Einsteins in the medical field or something.” She chuckled playfully, her eyes filled with mirth. “Other symptoms can be attempted marriage set ups, pushing for grandchildren and constant giving of unwanted advice.” Leyla didn’t even remember the last time she laughed this much and made a mental note to herself to visit the market more often.

She shrugged her shoulders gently and nodded at Rosa’s mention of her place of origin. “Only because they don’t know Istanbul. Like any other city, it has the glamorous parts but even more not so fancy corners. Most of us didn’t grow up as rich kids.” There was no envy or resentment in her voice, just the usual warm tone she spoke with when talking about home. “They just always see what they want to see and close their eyes to what doesn’t fit their ideas or the picture they’ve created in their minds.”

Leyla thanked the vendor and chuckled at her full bag of fresh ingredients. “I keep buying enough to feed a family of five although it’s just me. I guess the neighbors and friends will have to volunteer again.” Cooking was one of her favorite things to do when she wasn’t working and she frequently provided them with home cooked meals and pastries. “But much to my mother’s dismay, I refuse to get married just so I have someone to cook for.” It was a small joke but also not untrue. “As long as they’re happy that’s all that matters. Life has a way of brining together what’s meant to be, one way or another.” She winked at Rosa teasingly. “Unfortunately they prefers a scandal over a true love story. It’s quite sad actually but that’s the world we live in. I’d still buy your book. Just don’t tell my family I’m reading that sort of stuff.”

By what she’d read about the industry so far, she wasn’t surprised about what Rosa just told her. “Like they never said something wrong themselves. It’s a shame they treat people like objects. You really need a strong backbone to handle all of that.” She admired the other woman for her courage and determination. “I probably wouldn’t last a week in the film world.” Leyla laughed again. “Meeting you today really was like winning the lottery. But there’s no need really. Any seats will do but I won’t say no to the popcorn, that’s for sure.” It wasn’t like she was ungrateful for the offer, she just didn’t want anyone to go out of their way for her. Rosa’s next words caught her a little off guard and she could feel the heat spreading to her cheeks. “Flirting?” She called out, trying to keep her voice low. Truth was, Leyla probably ever only tried to flirt about twice in her life and wouldn’t even notice when someone flirted with her anyway. “I was just being honest.”

She nodded at the mention of her instinct. “It becomes a second nature. Can’t stop it.” Leyla agreed and chuckled again at Rosa’s way to get out of small talk. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever see you ‘fainting’.” A giggle escaped her lips at the way Rosa talked about her ex. “How do you put up with someone like that? I can’t with the type that’s only fun as long as they keep their mouth shut.” Not that she was all too experienced in that field herself but she certainly wouldn’t be comfortable with someone, if they had nothing to talk about. “They do say everything always works out the way it’s meant to in the end”

Leyla shook her head quickly. “I don’t pity people. Either encourage and support them or accept them as they are. Pity doesn’t do much good. It just drags down.” She usually didn’t like to talk about her family but for some reason it felt natural with Rosa. “It’s not easy but would it really be easier to live with someone you don’t really love? And pretend you’re someone you’re not every day? Hold yourself back just to please your family’s expectations? I don’t think I could have been truly happy following their ideas of life for me.” At the gentle nudge, she grinned mockingly. “Maybe I should have when I had the chance, but my heart was always more in love with my job than it ever was with a man.”

Rosa let out a knowing laugh, a rich, warm thing layered with mischief. “Oh, it’s definitely something in the brain. Maybe not a medical term yet, but give it time. Maternal Fixation Syndrome—symptoms include guilt-tripping, backhanded compliments, and passive-aggressive meal delivery.” She smirked, adjusting the culantro in her bag like it was a precious jewel instead of a leafy herb.

At the mention of Istanbul, Rosa’s brow lifted, genuinely impressed. “See? That’s already a more glamorous origin story than I’ve got. You say ‘Chavez Ravine’ in a casting office and they look at you like you tracked dirt into the room.” Her grin curved wider. “But hey, we can both claim dramatic backdrops. Yours has sweeping minarets. Mine had LAPD raids and rumors of ghosts.”

Rosa tilted her head at Leyla’s reaction to her parents’ story, amused. “You say ‘perfect love story,’ I say generational stubbornness with good eyebrows. But they’ve got the kind of history that makes you roll your eyes and get choked up at the same time.” She paused, a teasing glint in her eyes. “And if I ever write a book, it’ll have more sex and betrayal than love and loyalty. That's what sells in this town, not true love.”

She laughed again at Leyla’s excitement about the theater. “VIP perks, sure—but don’t let ‘em fool you. They’ll roll out a red carpet for you one night and then roll it up real quick if you say the wrong thing to the wrong columnist. But I’ll make sure you get the good seats anyway. And popcorn not laced with bitterness.” Her smirk sharpened when Leyla complimented her again. “Careful, cariño. Keep talking like that and people’ll think we’re flirting. Or worse, that I’m soft.” She winked. “But thanks. It’s always better when it’s sincere.”

Rosa followed Leyla’s glance toward the crowd, her voice lowering just slightly. “I don’t know how you do it—always looking out for emergencies like it’s instinct. Me, I’d pretend to faint just to get out of small talk.” Then, chuckling at the Kudzu bit, “Guess I should’ve kept that guy around. He was a disaster in conversation but his hips had faith. And I do love a man with rhythm—shame he had the emotional range of a saltine. But, if I had stayed with him, I wouldn't have met my husband, so everything works out as it should”

She let the laughter fade into something more reflective as Leyla talked about Hollywood and potential. “You sound like someone who doesn’t bullshit people, so I’ll take that as the highest compliment.” A beat, then she added with mock gravity, “It better not be pity though. I’m allergic to pity. I break out in sarcasm and poor life choices.”

As Leyla talked about her family’s expectations, Rosa’s expression shifted—still playful, but quieter underneath. “Mm. You’ve got guts, doing what you did. It’s easy to walk a path someone laid out for you. A hell of a lot harder to carve your own, especially when it comes with guilt trips and holiday side-eye.” She nudged her shoulder against Leyla’s. “But hey, at least you didn’t marry the first idiot who made your stomach flutter. Some of us had to learn the hard way.” While the words seemed harsh, they had a certain fondness; crapping on her husband as if she didn't look at him like he hung the moon was a favorite past time of hers.

[prcttyminds]

Doctor’s confidentiality was something Leyla took very seriously and even though she knew the stakes and who Mrs. Riley was, she wouldn’t betray her principles. She knew how important it was for her patients, her included. A friendly smile formed upon her lips as she approached the lady in the fancy restaurant. It wasn’t usually her scene but of course she wouldn’t have dared to say no. Besides it was a beautiful place so she wasn’t complaining. „Good morning, Mrs. Riley.“ Leyla greeted her politely before she took the offered seat. „Your family keeps me busy. But nothing extraordinary.“ She assured, not for their understanding of extraordinary anyway, which was a bit funny considering any normal person would beg to differ: injuries because someone likes to prove himself in street fights or crafts new weapons and the test goes wrong or other not quite legal actions were their - and with that now also Leyla‘s - daily business. „How have you been?“ She asked carefully addressing her condition without actually mentioning it.

Closed Starter (Maeve ft. Leyla) @prcttyminds

Location: Mel‘s Restaurant

Sharp red nails grazed over her forehead, ready to draw blood at the insane headache she had on her. Cold mornings and moody weather became her worst enemy these days, resulting in an increasing difficulty to hide her life threatening secret. To avoid suspicions amongst those close to her and more over ones who were not, she was in dire need of stronger pain killers. She had called for Dr. Balik, requesting her to meet at Mel‘s restaurant for a casual appearance of the encounter, should anyone witness it. Her observant gaze ever aware of her surroundings as it was met with the doctor‘s very own. „Good morning, Doctor. Please, take a seat.“ Maeve‘s hand gracefully motioned at the empty chair across from hers with the conviction of someone who wasn’t used to ever taking a no for an answer. „It’s been a while, dearest. How is everything? Anything I need to concern myself with?“

[prcttyminds]

The list of people Leyla couldn’t stand was really short and consisted only of a handful of people. Cormac made it onto that list somehow. „I’m your doctor, not your darling.“ She huffed and prepared everything to remove the small daggers from his back. „I didn’t ask for a show. A night off would have been my first choice but here we are.“Once she’d put on her gloves, she disinfected the area on his back without a warning like she’d have given to any other patient. Maybe it was a little mean but who could blame her? „Well then save it for the ladies who care and let me do my job.“ But she had a feeling she was about to wipe that smug grin off his face the moment she pulled the first one out and maybe she should have felt bad about it but she didn’t. Nor did she try to be particularly gentle.

„That’s one of three.“ She sighed and held it up with the tweezers, inspecting it closer before she cleaned the small wound on his back and patched it up. „This will need stitches. Only two or three small ones but that thing went in deep.“Leyla shrugged and proceeded with the treatment. Not so cocky anymore now. She thought to herself with a bit of satisfaction washing over her features at the sight of Mr. tough guy like this. Not that she was enjoying it. Okay, maybe a little bit. „Maybe you should stop inventing things that end up getting you hurt.“ It was just a suggestion but she didn’t expect him to consider it, he was a Riley after all. „Spare me the details! And just a tip, don’t annoy the one who’s stitching you up too much. It might end badly for you.“

He sauntered over to the chair, his usual swagger slightly marred by the effort it took not to groan with every step. The hitman couldn't help but flash a roguish grin as he barged into the room, the wooden chair creaking under his muscular weight as he plopped down. The pain from the sharp objects lodged in his back was nothing compared to the thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Cormac smirked at the sight of Dr. Leyla's reaction to his bare chest. „Aye, Darlin‘," he drawled, his Irish accent shining through, as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I figured if I was gonna be botherin' ya at this ungodly hour, the least I could do was give ya a bit of a show,“ he mused cocky as ever, whilst gesturing at the makeshift daggers sticking out of his back. „No one‘s ever complained bout that before by the way,“ he added with a wink, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

He had a way with words that could charm the birds out of the trees, or in this case, the clothes off a person; but he knew better than to try that with Dr. Balik — she was all business, and that was just fine by him. He leaned back, his muscular chest rising and falling with each shallow breath he took, while he could feel the blood trickling down his back and soaking into his pants; but the pain was a familiar friend, one he'd played with countless times before. "They're a bit of a work in progress," he replied, trying to play it cool despite the discomfort he was currently experiencing. "My latest creation. Mini daggers with metal hooks. Small but effective — and apparently a bitch to remove.“ Cormac chuckled sarcastically. „They're meant to be a surprise for the lads I'm dealing with, but seems they had a surprise of their own for me tonight.“ He shrugged as if it was the most natural thing to talk about, watching her as she approached with her medical bag. The dim light from the single bulb hanging above cast a warm glow over her, highlighting the soft curves of her body beneath her robe. To his defense, he tried not to notice but alas he ain’t blind either. Cormac leaned forward, allowing her to get a better look at the three mini-daggers embedded in his lower back. "Now, don't be shy," he teased, "I've had worse in me."

[prcttyminds]

[prcttyminds]

Maybe she should have just given up and held her breath but just like the man in front of her, she could be stubborn too. In a different way but still. And she simply didn’t find it in her to quit, no matter how hopeless the case seemed. As long as she wasn’t talking to a corpse, she would always have faith.

She couldn’t have disagreed more with him about the scars not saying anything about someone but she didn’t say it out aloud. Instead, she paused and focused on the bandage. Her eyes occasionally flickered up to his own even if he wouldn’t meet her gaze. „Maybe not to you. But one way or another they change us. Especially when they come from someone we used to care about. The last person we ever thought would hurt us. And the worst of them are the ones no one can see. But it‘s life. We can either drown in sorrow and get bitter about it or fuck it and make the best of it anyway.“ Leyla shrugged, tossing the gloves to the bin once she’d finished patching up his latest wounds. Only now realizing the words had slipped and she’d opened up a little more than she should have. No, she wasn’t talking about his scars now. Her own may not have been as obvious, not half as bad, but it didn’t mean they weren’t there. She had her own battles to fight and wasn’t half as good at dismissing them as Eoin was.

„Not who you are, no. But what you’ve endured.“She half agreed, half disagreed with him. He was making it damn hard even for someone like her to stay professional sometimes but somehow she managed. The moment their eyes met, really met for the first time since he’d been dragged into this room, her heart pounded a little faster in her chest. It wasn’t out of fear, not really, but she held his gaze firmly anyway. „I didn’t. And I’m not pretending I did either. But I know what I see now. Through the eyes of a doctor who’s been in this job for a few years, who’s been in this world for a decade. And through the eyes of -,“ She bit her lips then. Inhaled sharply, exhaled slowly through her nose and stopped herself from making this any worse than she already had.

„We‘ll just have to agree to disagree on that.“ She sighed, walking over to the locker to get a spare shirt out of the little stock she’d always kept. These Rileys went through shirts like normal people through underwear, so she made it a habit to keep some spare ones ready, just in case. „It’s not as nice as your old one but it’s clean. It should do until you get home and get that laundry done.“ Leyla mused, her tone softer now. She placed the shirt next to him, her movements as gentle as ever. When the tension finally seemed to shift a little, she was relieved. „I’ve had worse to deal with.“ A small chuckle followed and she winked at him subtly. „At least you didn’t break my nose like that guy last year, when I tried to stitch him up.“

Something flickered in her eyes at what sounded almost like an apology and in her mind, there was no need for it. After all, she was just doing her job. „I‘m glad it helps.“ She whispered quietly. Leyla cared. About every one of her patients. Okay, maybe there were a few exceptions she’d rather see dead than alive but Eoin was not one of them. Still, she never let personal feelings get in the way of her job. She paused and listened, then a short „I know,“ fell from her lips, just below a whisper. „Don’t worry about it.“

Her eyebrow raised a little at his comment. „Careful there, Mr. Riley. Or I might start to think you’re getting soft.“ It was a little, playful tease, aiming at his previous words. Then her expression changed to a more serious one again and she made sure he could see it in her eyes. „Alright, tough guy. Don’t use it, if you prefer the pain. But one thing I will not argue about is the sleep. You need it! Your body needs to rest to heal! That’s not optional.“ It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a doctor’s order. „Let’s make a deal. I’ll keep those doors locked and you’re getting your rest. Sounds fair?

He went still at her words. Not in the way a man softened—but the way a man held his breath before the heat in his chest could rise too high. The kind of stillness that came from someone who’d spent too long listening to others try to put poetry to the parts of him that had never felt beautiful.

His eyes stayed locked on the edge of the table. It wasn’t shame that passed across his features—but something flatter, more resigned. “Thing about scars,” he said quietly, “is that they don’t mean a damn thing.” It wasn’t angry, not quite. Just matter-of-fact. A little too sharp around the edges. “They don’t tell you who someone is. Just what happened to ‘em.” He finally looked up then, not unkind but firm, meeting her eyes for the first time since she’d started patching him up. “You don’t know what I was before. You don’t know what got burned off and what’s left behind. So let’s not go pretendin’ like these”—he gestured vaguely to his shoulder—“say something noble about me. They don’t. They just… are.”

He let it settle there, not with cruelty but with finality. A warning, maybe. Or a line in the sand. Then, after a pause, the tension in his shoulders shifted—eased just enough to soften the air between them. “But the bandage helps,” he added, quieter now. “And I appreciate that. Even if I’m a bastard about it.” A ghost of a breath—almost a laugh. He glanced toward the mangled shirt again, then back to her, tone dry as dust. “Sorry about the attitude. Been a long week.” A half beat, then: “Been a long war.”

At her mention of locked doors, he huffed—not quite a laugh, but close. “It ain't the Rileys I'm worried about, Doc.” These streets were cruel, especially to someone as good-hearted as her. "And this place is better with people like you, who give a damn, in it. So lock the doors." At this point, it wasn't a suggestion, more of a warning. “And I’ll take the script, if it makes you feel better. Doesn’t mean I’ll use it.”

[prcttyminds]

She knew exactly what Rosalyn was talking about but it was often a fine line that was crossed easily. And more often than not, without being noticed until it was too late. She nodded and sighed softly. “I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself. Mental health is important too.” It wasn’t like she was being nosy, she was just really interested in everything her friends did. “I hate when they do that. You’re great at what you do. They should give you more credit and let you do your actual job.” Leyla agreed with her and wished there was something she could do to help. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed they’ll recognize your talent soon. They need to understand it’s a win-win. The greater your stories, the better for them.” She knew how hard working Ros was and believed in her with her whole heart, not just because they were friends.

Her eyebrow raised a bit at Rosalyn’s words because she noticed her friend was selling herself short. “Don’t do that, Ros. Completely different maybe but equally important. Just imagine if there were no people like you, who uncover the truth and fight for the public’s right to know. We’d only ever get the crap the authorities are trying to sell to us.” To her that was a very important aspect and she made sure to point it out any chance she got. Her smile grew even bigger at Rosalyn’s reassurance. “I appreciate it! And I promise, I’ll try to make more time for you too. It’s been crazy busy lately. And unfortunately emergency usually choose the worst hours. But I wouldn’t disrupt your night like that. At least one of us deserves her beauty sleep. Not that you need it.”

It was just nice to have a friend she could always count on, even if they didn’t see each other every day. But when it really came to it they’d be there for one another. “I trust you on that.” She winked playfully, she was sure Ros could handle her annoying boss and wrap him around her finger eventually. “I barely have time for anything outside of work lately. But I did go to the market the other day and I’ve met a nice woman, who taught me about culantro. I’ll definitely have to cook for you again soon so I can try it.” Leyla loved cooking, especially if she had someone to cook for so her friends had to volunteer frequently. “It’s apparently better than cilantro, I’ve been told.”

ros winced. she wasn't stressed exactly, just a little frazzled from attempting to get her foot through the right door at work. "less stressed and more trying to stop myself from being stressed." she laughed, knowing it didn't sound like it made a lot of sense but hoping leyla understood what she meant. "are you sure? my current work life isn't the most exciting. they've had me doing all the grunt work which doesn't surprise me, but still, i feel like i've been there long enough for them to trust me with something bigger. like the johnny halperin case for example! i know people are shrugging their shoulders at it or calling it what it looks like, but i know if they just gave me a chance i could dig up something useful." she exhaled an exasperated sigh.

"you're right, i know, we're both doing totally different things." it was very like rosalyn to be self-deprecating, especially when around someone who had a more noble job than she did. of course, there were aspects of journalism that were noble - exposing the truth being one of them - but she knew that certain publications had sullied that image. "oh, leyla," she offered her friend a warm smile, "of course i'll always make time for you, you know that. call me at five a.m. and i'll be right there."

rosalyn definitely appreciated the care her friend showed. she knew that there were times when she didn't look out for herself well enough, and she could always count on leyla to be there when she didn't. ros would do the exact same for her. "he's just irritating me more than anything. it's nothing i can't handle, i promise." she gave her a reassuring smile. "what's new with you anyway? how have things been?"

[prcttyminds]

She laughed at Zara’s reaction and it genuinely made her happy to see how much she cherished the treats. „I’m glad my late night, or was it early morning? Anyway the baking session after work was not done in vain.“ Leyla mused and nudged her new found friend playfully. „You can keep it. I can always make more.“

As she took the other half that was handed to her, she closed her eyes to really relish the taste of the treat. It took her back home, far away where she once lived. It was incredibly how fast the time had passed, how many years had gone by already but still she remembered it like it was only yesterday. „I was joking Zara. Just making sure we’re not getting in trouble. That hardly counts, he shouldn’t play favorites like that. Same right to all costumers I‘d say.“ She agreed with a nod and prepared the picnic blanket she’d brought, neatly folded in her bag. „Fair point. But don’t get me started on karma. I’m still counting on it. And maybe waiting for it to strike some particularly mean ass but I never said that.“ Leyla chuckled while she made herself comfortable, taking a deep breath. „almost like home.“

Zara really was something else. Like a breeze of fresh air in the desert. A welcome distraction from the gruesome things she had to deal with at work. She laughed, shaking her head. „Of course I would! I’d bail you out, bribing the judge with baklava.“ Leyla joked back at her and took another bite of the bread, before she made her best innocent puppy face, betting her lashes. „Could these eyes lie?“ but she couldn’t stop laughing either. „I’m glad you like them. I’ll keep that in mind. You’d be my business partner. We could open a whole chain. Bring the orient to LA.“

For a moment she imagined it, her fantasy had always been vivid but she could really see the two of them opening up their own business. Not that she’d ever truly quit her job. „Be honest, how far would you go for homemade baklava?“ She raised a brow at Zara, waiting for her response. „I bet it would look cute on you. Then again, what doesn’t?“

Zara took the baklava like it was holy, cradling the box for a second with a reverent gasp before popping the lid. "Leyla, I take back every mean thing I’ve ever said about you—which, granted, is very little. You’re an angel. A saint. A confectionary goddess.”

She tore a piece in half and handed one to her, like a communion. Sweet, sticky, still faintly warm. The kind of thing that made the noise from the boardwalk dim just a little.

“I didn’t actually steal it,” she said with a faux-offended sniff, brushing crumbs from her skirt. “But you know how the owner always likes to save the best ones for the Uncles he plays dama with, and hands you the crumbly ones. I just… took the good ones, left my money on the counter and walked away very quickly while he was arguing with a woman about which olives were the most politically neutral.” She grinned. “Besides, if I really stole something, you think I’d admit it to the one person I know who still believes in karma?”

She settled more comfortably on the towel, glancing toward the shore and then back at Leyla. “And for the record, if I ever do get arrested for stealing bread, I fully expect you to show up at my trial with a fresh tray of baklava and say, ‘But Your Honor, look at her—does she look like a criminal?’” Zara popped a flaky bite in her mouth, chewed, and sighed in bliss. “God, this is good. I’m not saying you should quit your job and open a bakery, but if you ever do, I’ll be your first customer. I’ll even work the register. I’ll wear one of those aprons with the flowers on it. I’ll tell rude customers to leave.”