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When Alan Weaver had first woken up in the hospital, all he could feel was this strange drug-induced bliss. The painkillers had been doing their job, which in all honesty, was probably for the best. The last thing the hospital had needed was Mr. Weaver yelling at the boys who had been in his room consoling his precious daughter.

Yet now that the drugs had somewhat worn off, the rather large man was feeling something much different. He was feeling very antsy. Alan was a man who made a living off of good old fashioned physical labor, so being stuck in a bed with a leg hoisted up in a hard white cast had been driving him batty to say the least. Perhaps the only bit of comfort the large man found in his day was when his precious daughter was sitting right next to him, hand over his and talking about whatever was on her mind.

Her father was one of the few people that the usually shy Yvette was able to talk to without any worry. Ever since the accident, she felt obligated to stay by his side like a loyal puppy dog. Every free moment was spent with Daddy, talking to him about how things had been at school, or letting him know how things had been going with Mommy lately. Yvette was very careful to avoid mentioning any of her friends who might have been boys (because she knew the reaction she'd get), but felt no need to hold back mentioning her girlfriends.

Today, Alan's fingers were drumming beneath his daughter's hand.

The girl's fingers squeezed carefully, then she attempted to divert his attention to something different. Distractions were a good tactic with her daddy. They always had been. "Daddy, did you want more of that banana pudding that my friend's mom made...?"

Her voice quickly shut off as someone knocked at the door.

The man in the hospital bed answered with a gruff "Come in!" Alan knew his daughter wouldn't have been able to invite someone in with her small voice.

Two pairs of indigo eyes were on the doctor, but only one pair seemed uncertain about the man. Perhaps it was because the girl had such a horrible dream about a doctor when she first arrived at the hospital. Or perhaps it was just Yvette being shy ol' Yvette. Or perhaps it was a combination of the two.

Whatever the case, she eventually looked to her Daddy, as if to ask him to do the introductions.

The man gave the doctor a glance over. He thrust out his right hand for the classical businessman style handshake (though his grip was a bit strong and rough), but he had to mention "Aren't you a bit young to be a doctor?" Obviously Alan was more adjusted to having older doctors working with him.

He managed to catch the sight of his daughter silently pleading to do the introductions, and without hesitation, he did just that. "Yes, she is my daughter. Dr. Baskov, this is Yvette." However, his daughter was not getting off Scott-free, and with a simple nudge, he managed to get the girl to speak.

"Uh.... um... hi?" Her voice was pretty small, and in all honesty, a bit difficult to hear at times. Her hands remained gripping to her father's large left hand, and her eyes remained uncertainly on the doctor.

Alan laughed. It wasn't an overly loud or overly amused laugh. It wasn't hearty, but at the same time, it wasn't sarcastic. It was just a short laugh to let the doctor know that his president comment was amusing. Nothing more.

Or course, his eyes trailed along with the doctor, still a bit uneasy with the doctor's age. Baskov was looking at his toes. He was a doctor and all, but he was looking at his toes of all things. When the young doctor teased his daughter, Alan didn't hesitate to mention in his gruff voice "Don't tease her so much, doctor." There was no explanation offered as to why, but Alan knew his daughter well enough. She would have been more prone to shut down rather than open up if he kept at such a tone with her.

At the doctor's smile, the girl attempted one of her own, which was a tiny, delicate thing upon her small lips. "I... I'm s-sorry..." she offered, though her voice was still that quiet tone from before.

A big hand came from the opposite side his daughter was sitting at and lay itself gently on the girl's hand, patting her small one into a sort of hand sandwich. The "there-there" pats were one of the most effective ways to console the girl. This lesson had been learned early on.

"Well, I'm awake, and I want to get outta here as soon as I can. I'd imagine that's pretty normal, right?" The injured giant was a bit tempted to chew on a bit of his own beard, but decided against it, since there was foreign company. You didn't do nervous habits in front of a stranger.

Dr. Baskov might as well have told Alan that he'd need to get his leg amputated, or something equally as drastic, for the expression on the bearded man's face looked as if he had just been told he'd be losing his leg. It was a mix of anger, disappointment, and pure shock. Yes, Alan knew that his leg got messed up, but that was about all he really knew. The details as to why he was like this was a bit blurry. In fact, the only one who really knew the full details was sitting right next to him, slender hand sandwiched between the man's two larger ones.

"God damn."

The hand which had been covering his daughter's reached up to his head, pushing back some of his brown hair. A strained sigh escaped him, resembling more of a hissing sound. "Well, that screws us all over, since I kinda need my leg to do my job." Construction workers didn't get paid to sit on the sidelines with a broken leg. His voice was rather intimidating, especially when he was angry, for the gruff quality to his voice became even more pronounced.

Yet small fingers curled up against his hand, and a tiny voice followed.

"I'm s-sorry, Daddy..."

A couple tears dribbled from the corners of her eyes, for guilt had an unusual way of always sinking in on the quiet girl. It should have been her in that hospital bed. Daddy was only there because he had to protect her. Had to save her from a strange monster. At least if it was her in the bed, then it wouldn't have been a burden on her family. They'd probably end up losing their house if her Daddy couldn't go to work.

And it would be all her fault.

Yet, in the midst of all her self pity, a large hand found a way to the girl's dark hair and mussed it about a bit. "No, sweetie, you have nothing to be sorry about. Everything will be alright, baby. Daddy will make certain of it." The man forced a smile on his face, even though he really didn't feel like smiling.

The man heaved out one more sigh before turning back to the doctor. "Sorry about that... you're just doing your job, right?" A half-hearted laugh followed before he then addressed the question both he and his daughter were wondering.

"How long will I be out of commission?" There was a thoughtful pause before he added "Including therapy." His leg was probably going to be very weak after the cast was removed, so Alan could only assume he'd need to get some sort of therapy after the fact.