It is surreal his life now, the course it has taken, the ways it has changed with the bends. Like water, a river, it always found its way, made the path its own. Overcame obstacles. Still, it didn't baffle him just how very often he seemed flabbergasted. Utterly.
Weir loved children, he found them fascinating, interesting above most all things. (Perhaps not more than turtles, but they were very high on the list all the same) Still though, he is surely caught off guard by the child, this young girl with strange silver eyes. Peculiar they were, as if they strained to speak of things that the young just could not know. Strange but interesting, for a moment he is caught in their swirling gaze. The moment is lost quick enough when she speaks, a question he is most unprepared to answer.
Father? her curiosity is brimming with that. His heart promptly jumps to his throat and he struggles inwardly to push it back in place. He stutters, falling over his words which was becoming normally un-normal for the roan. The favored tried and true saying of his still rang with importance- it just sometimes led him into awkward situations. Like the one that was now laid out before him, a child and a woman he barely knew. "I-I-I well, I don't think that..I wouldn't say....not sure Father is an appropriate term." He faltered trying to be tactful, yet not crush the girl, to perhaps leave it open for interpretation. "I think Weir is best, yes, I am Weir." There that was true, to the point as much as he could manage, and still a practical answer.
To the child's mother he offers an apologetic look, "Do forgive me, I don't mean to intrude." There he was just barging in on a very personal time, on top of that he had the kid asking after him as Father. What a mess.
WEIR
I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly
