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Contrary to popular - and he meant popular - belief, Dr. Alto Clef was not an overprotective father. In fact, as Epon became an awkward, tree-loving teenager, he relaxed in a lot of ways. Sleepovers were still off the table so far as he was concerned, but he let her do all the regular teen girl things - going to the mall, joining environmental protests, having a solid connection to the Internet. Hell, he was practically a saint!
That sainthood came with some heavy burdens though. The first was that Epon was still his daughter, and he was her only parent. Caring for her welfare was a task he had to handle alone. The second weighed more on him. Epon trusted him. If she had a problem, no matter what it was or how qualified he was to solve it, she came to him first. Her trust in him also meant that she loved showing him her interests, never fearing judgment from her father.
Unfortunately, her trust in him also led to his current situation.
“So.” Alto began, trying his hardest not to laugh or shout or do anything that’d somehow fuck up his daughter’s psyche beyond repair. “You. Identify with deers, huh.”
Epon shook her head. “Not exactly, Papa! I just think, if I were to be an animal person, I’d like to be some sort of reindeer girl. That’s why I commissioned this from Cassy! Offline, she’s a mechanic, but she’s super good at art!”
He could see that. Despite the worldshaking experience of being presented with his daughter’s fursona, even a scientifically minded musician like him could appreciate the anatomy and coloring of the piece. Still, he felt extremely out of his depth here. Shouldn’t there be some guidebook out there for this kind of situation? How To Be Respectful When Your Child Gets Involved In Online Communities or something like that.
“Anyway,” she said, smiling with all the patience in the world, “what do you think?”
“Well. I like that it has your rosary.” Was that even a good compliment? Come to think of it, how did the Catholic faith work in a furry universe?
His daughter visibly brightened. Alto immediately knew none of his questions would be answered satisfactorily. “Me too! I asked Cassy if she could make it work, and she added it in! Besides, all of my friends want to commission her now after seeing it, which is good because she’s saving up to buy this old car.”
He nodded a bit absentmindedly and ruffled her hair. “Nice. Always gotta support local artists.”
“Right? Oh, um, she’s not local though.”
“My daughter’s a furry. Thoughts?”
His coworkers regarded him with the sort of caution one would typically give to a wild animal. Alto was not offended by this in the slightest. In fact, he wished they’d do that more so they wouldn’t bother him with trivial things like ‘why are you breaking lab dress code’ and ‘can you please peer review my paper’. It did put a damper on his plan to pick their minds for ways to cope with this newfound knowledge.
“Uh.” Dr. Jack Bright, ever the articulate man, stared at him like he had lost his mind. “What exactly are we supposed to think about that?”
“Thoughts?” Alto pressed.
Bright shrugged. “I guess your hunting trip is over- ow! Why’d you kick me?!? You asked for thoughts!”
“Yeah, well.” He said and didn’t elaborate. “Okay, Glass, how about you?”
Dr. Simon Glass looked less like a therapist and more like a scared wuss in that moment. “What about me? She’s your daughter.” He said, no doubt trying to deflect.
Alto narrowed his eyes at the other man. “You’re literally a therapist. Should I be worried that she’s, I dunno, lost her sense of self?”
“Clef… I don’t know how to say this tactfully, but there is nothing in the DSM-5 about being a furry. I cannot help you.”
Instead of answering right away, he stabbed his fork into what remained of his sandwich. Then he used the fork to lift the sandwich into his mouth as a show of intimidation. “You should lose your degree.” He grumbled around bits of lettuce and ham.
“Sincerely, you are going to hell.” Bright said joyfully. “But that’s not the point. Is she, you know, happy?”
“Obviously? I want to be able to support her though if she isn’t. And even if she is, that’s what I’d like to do.” Again, he wasn’t an overprotective father, but he wasn’t a terrible one either. Tormenting his colleagues could be easily seen as an act of parental love.
The other two men at the table exchanged glances. “I think your care for Epon’s mental state is commendable. It can be a shock to learn new things about your child, but I’m sure both you and her will get through this adjusting period.” Glass told him in his best therapist voice.
“Oh, go fuck yourself with a cactus. I’m never asking you guys for advice again.” Alto shot back, feeling very much patronized.
Glass turned very pale. Bright laughed instead, amused by anyone and everything. “Who else would you ask? Gears? Kondraki?”
“They have kids, don’t they?” He said, knowing damn well he wouldn’t ask Kondraki for parenting advice if he was shot in the foot. Draven seemed like a well-adjusted kid, but still. Bright seemed well-adjusted when Alto met him, and look what came from that.
“You hear that, Simon?” Bright pretended to whisper in the other man’s ear. “If we just snatch a baby or something, we’ll be more reliable than the Fathers Club!”
“That’s not what-”
“Let’s do it!”
“Jack.”
Alto turned his attention back to his lunch. Epon’s usual note wishing him a good day had her fursona sloppily doodled onto it. He peered at the little character’s horns and its cartoonish smile. Even if it was just a phase or a symptom of some larger problem, it clearly made her happy to depict herself that way.
Unable to help himself, he smiled down at the little paper. He didn’t understand the whole thing, not yet, but he’d just have to be there for her. It was what an epic saint father like him did.