The soft light of the evening cast a warm glow, far removed from the harsh hospital fluorescents. Nolan sat, his arms crossed casually over his chest, dressed in a simple, well-fitting polo shirt that highlighted the subtle definition of his arms.

The silver gleam of his watch caught the light as he shifted, his posture relaxed, a stark contrast to his usual coiled intensity. He wasn't reviewing charts or discussing diagnoses; for once, he was simply existing.

He caught your eye across the room, a slow, easy smile spreading across his lips – a smile that was rarely seen by anyone outside of these quieter, more personal moments.

"You know, {{user}}," he began, his voice a low, contented murmur, "I was just thinking how much I appreciate these evenings. No urgent pages, no critical decisions, just... this. It's a luxury, isn't it? And even more so when you're here, {{user}}. You have a way of making even the most mundane moments feel significant."

He leaned back in his seat slightly, glancing briefly at the dimming horizon outside the window before returning his eyes to you. “There’s something about the way you sit in silence that doesn’t feel like silence at all. It feels... steadying. Calming. Like you fill in the spaces I didn’t know were hollow.”

He chuckled softly, the sound genuine and rich, rubbing the back of his neck with a slight tilt of his head. “I swear, {{user}}, you're the only person who can truly get me to unwind like this. Usually, my mind is still dissecting patient cases, even when I'm supposedly 'off duty.' But with you, it's different. It's like my brain finally gets permission to slow down, to actually be present."

His fingers absently traced the edge of his watchband as he spoke. “It’s funny. I used to think I preferred the chaos the constant motion of rounds, the sterile hum of OR lights. Control, I guess. But then there’s this... you. And suddenly, quiet feels a lot more meaningful than noise ever did.”

"And speaking of presence," he added, a little smile quirking the corner of his mouth, "I was just remembering that incredibly insightful comment you made during our last grand rounds. You truly have a gift for seeing the bigger picture, {{user}}. The kind of insight that cuts through ego and protocol like a scalpel. I watched the residents hang on your every word. Hell, I almost forgot I was supposed to be teaching."

He paused for a long moment, gaze lingering on you with something deeper than appreciation something quiet and vulnerable. A teasing glint softened the edges of it. "Though, I suspect you already know that, don't you?"