Hey, folks! Here's another AU story for you :) I decided it would be neat to incorporate Jesse's teaching background into Jackson's character in this one. Named this after the Coldplay song. Have a listen if you haven't yet. It's a wonderful song!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own Grey's or its character. That's all Shonda Rhimes.

"Slavery in America began when the first African slaves were brought to the North American colony of Jamestown, Virginia, in 1619…" Jackson Avery briefly glanced over his shoulder after writing some historical facts on the whiteboard, checking to make sure his students were taking notes. As the AP U.S. History teacher at Pacific West Academy, he stressed the importance of remembering significant events from decades and centuries ago. He was a history teacher after all, but being an African American man, the topic of slavery was a subject he always spent extra time on. "…to aid in the production of crops such as tobacco and-"

He paused again when he noticed that only about sixty percent of his students were writing diligently in their notebooks or binders. The other forty percent were female students who simply stared at him in awe, which wasn't a surprise to him in the five years he had been teaching at the private high school. Different students, yet they gave him the same reaction every year after stepping a foot into his classroom.

Mr. Avery, as most of the students called him, or Coach Avery if they were members of his varsity basketball team during the winter season, but his unofficial name from the female population at PWA was Mr. Green Eyes. His eyes were green with a hint of blue and they stood out like a sore thumb. They were the first thing people noticed and the female students were infatuated with him. Jackson also had a handsome face, a pretty boy type of appearance, but the eyes always drew them in.

A Boston native, the 32-year old had been uncomfortable with the stares initially. How were his students supposed to take him seriously when half of them were drooling all over their desks? He grew used to it, though, and the only way to wake them up from their fantasies was to randomly hand them pop quizzes. It was only then did they actually feel motivated to study. At least his students respected him. He was a hardass, but a kind one. Jackson took pride in helping them succeed in academics. That was why he loved being a teacher.

It was only the second week of the school year. He needed a month or two before his entire class would fully pay attention to his lectures. Nothing new there, though.

Clearing his throat, Jackson faced the whiteboard to jot down more notes for his students. "Back in the early 17th century, European settlers in North America turned to African slaves as a cheaper source of labor-" He paused once again when there was a knock on the door.

The principal, Miranda Bailey, opened the door and gestured towards Jackson to meet her in the hallway. He excused himself before stepping out of his classroom and closing the door behind him. "Your son's school called the main office. Apparently, he had an accident during recess. Fell off the jungle gym and it's possible he broke his arm," she informed him. "You have to pick him up and take him to the hospital."

"Oh, crap," he muttered, rubbing the back of his shaved head worriedly. "Okay, umm… I need somebody to take over for the rest of my classes."

"Don't worry about it, Mr. Avery. I'll cover your class and I'll find you some substitutes for the others. Take care of your little boy."

Jackson returned to his classroom to gather his belongings. He told his class that he was needed for a family emergency, which drew some disappointed sighs from the young ladies. After leaving the academy, he drove fifteen minutes through downtown Seattle to his son's school. From the moment he walked into the hallway, a familiar cry echoed from the nurse's office.

Upon entering the room, he spotted his 5-year old son, Dylan, sitting on a chair as the school nurse attempted to console him. The little boy had a splint holding his left arm in place and his face was drenched with tears. The pained expression on the nurse's face hinted that he had been crying since falling off of the jungle gym.

"Hey, Dylan. I'm here now," Jackson softly greeted him and knelt down in front of the Kindergartener. He pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket and dried his face. "You alright, buddy?"

"There's significant swelling in his forearm. We iced it already, but you should definitely take him to the ER," she explained, gently rubbing Dylan's back.

"Daddy, it hurts!" Dylan wailed, more tears streaming down his face. "I wanna go home!"

"We will go home, but first, we're going to take a field trip to the ER. You like field trips," Jackson insisted. He carefully picked up Dylan with one arm and made sure not to touch his injured arm, then used his other hand to get his backpack. His son buried his face against his shoulder on their way out of the school. He knew Dylan was a bit on the adventurous side, though he was afraid to ask just how he fell off of the jungle gym. It easily could have been accident – his son was a little accident prone.

It took him longer to buckle Dylan into his booster seat, trying to maneuver the seat belt without running into his left arm. On their way to the hospital, Jackson occasionally checked on him through the rearview mirror. His son continued to cry his eyes out. It was obvious he was in a tremendous amount of pain, which made him frown.

"We're almost there, Dylan. Just hang on for a few more minutes."

Seattle Grace Hospital's waiting room was slightly full, but Dylan's loud cries earned them some sympathy from the front desk and they were sent to the pit where they were given an empty bed. While they waited for a doctor to arrive, Jackson dried his face once more. His eyes were red and puffy and he sported a pout on his face as he continued to sniffle.

"So, what were you trying to do during recess?" Jackson curiously asked, lightly patting his leg.

"Climb to da top," he mumbled. "And I fell."

"I hope you know this means no more peewee football for the rest of the season," the older Avery noted. "You can't play football with a broken arm."

"Oh nooooo!" Dylan whined loudly, dropping his head as he cried even harder.

Jackson grimaced and instantly felt guilty. He thought maybe he should have waited a little longer before dropping that bomb on him. "Don't worry, buddy. There's always next year," he promised, wiping away his tears once more.

A redheaded doctor in navy blue scrubs and a white lab coat approached them with a bright smile on her face and a ponytail that happily swayed back and forth while she walked. She appeared fairly young, around Jackson's age. "Hi, I'm Dr. April Kepner," she introduced herself, shaking the teacher's hand before taking a seat on a stool beside the bed. Her cheerful demeanor seemed to help Dylan relax as the tears finally stopped. "And you must be Dylan Avery. Heard you had an accident. Is it okay if I take a look at your arm?"

At first, he was reluctant before slowly nodding his head. "Careful, though. It hurts."

April softly laughed, partly due to her patient's inability to pronounce his R's. "I'll be extra careful, okay?" She tried her best to distract him from the pain by asking him simple questions. "How old are you, Dylan?"

"Five," the 5-year old answered, holding up five fingers with his right hand. "How old are you?"

Jackson forced himself to laugh and sheepishly grinned at April. "Ah, that's- you don't have to answer that question, Dr. Kepner."

"It's alright," she chuckled. "How old do you think I am?"

"Umm…" Dylan's eyes shot up towards the ceiling as he tapped his chin with his index finger. "Twenty two."

April smirked while she examined Dylan's left arm. "Close, but you're ten years off," she politely corrected him. She noticed a smile forming on his face, then she looked up at Jackson. His son was like a miniature version of him. They both had matching greenish blue eyes, a feature she didn't see often. "This is going to sound random, but you and your son have beautiful eyes."

"I'll thank my Swedish father for that," Jackson playfully replied. He immediately noticed the dimple on her face whenever she smiled. "You're a pediatrician?"

"Oh, no. I'm actually a trauma surgeon, but I run the ER sometimes and I have free hands at the moment, so I was able to come over and help you out. I do have experience working with children, if that's what you're worried about."

He waved his hand and smiled. "I'm not worried. You seem really good with children. I'm sure you're a good mother too."

"I'm actually not a mother – or married for that matter," April admitted, shyly biting her bottom lip. "Just a lot of nephews and nieces."

"My daddy's not married either!" Dylan chimed in.

Jackson cleared his throat, loosening his blue necktie. "Well, what he means by that…" He pursed his lips, while April awkwardly stared back at him. "Divorced."

She nodded, her eyes refocusing on Dylan's injured arm. "It's none of my business. What is my business, though, is your son's arm. I'm going to take him upstairs for x-rays because I suspect there's a fracture in his forearm. You're free to come up with us and you can fill in some paperwork in the meantime while you wait."

"Do you think he'd need surgery?"

"I won't know for sure until I see the x-rays, but there aren't any major deformities in his arm, so there's a good chance it'll heal on its own," April answered before smiling back at Dylan. "Hey, do you want to take a quick tour of the hospital? We have some really cool machines that I think you'll find interesting. Your daddy can come too."

Dylan looked at Jackson eagerly. "Can we, Daddy?"

"I don't see why not," the older Avery replied, playing along with April's game. If it meant his kid was no longer crying his lungs out, then he was all for it. Dylan hadn't shed another tear since the redhead's arrival.

After a trip to Radiology where Dylan was instantly fascinated by the x-ray machine, April met with the Averys in another examination room. She placed the x-ray pictures on a screen to show Jackson where the fracture is. "He has a clean break in the ulna, which should heal in four to six weeks. He'll be in a cast for at least four of those weeks."

"And no surgery?"

"Definitely no surgery," she assured him. April sat down beside Dylan's chair and smiled. "Hey, Dylan. I'm going to wrap your arm in a cast, so your broken bone will heal over time. You know what the best part of this is? You get to pick a color, so what color would you like for your cast?"

"Poh-ple!" the little boy squeaked.

She pulled out a red lollipop from her lab coat pocket and handed it to Dylan. "And while I work on your cast, you can eat this for being a brave boy." The trauma surgeon turned to face Jackson and whispered, "It's sugar free."

Jackson nodded in approval and let April work on his son. He admired how the two of them easily got along. Dylan continuously babbled about his favorite toys and barely flinched as she casted his left arm. It was refreshing to watch him interacting with an adult of the opposite sex. His ex-wife resided in Portland after they divorced three years ago. They agreed on joint custody of their two children, but they only saw their mother every other weekend and on some holidays. She had chosen her occupation over family, leaving him a single father to an 8-year old daughter and a 5-year old son.

Something about April made him comfortable. She seemed warmhearted and thoughtful from the second she arrived in the ER. And Dylan enjoyed talking to her as if he had completely forgotten that he had a broken arm. She was also gorgeous in his mind.

He quietly scolded himself because he didn't know anything about her. It had been four months since he last went out on a date with a woman. Being a single father of two young children made his dating pool smaller. Sure, women laid eyes on him immediately, but as soon as they learned that he was a single father, they lost interest. He came with baggage – adorable baggage – however, not everybody wanted to date a man with kids no matter how attractive he was. And he wanted somebody who also accepted his children.

When April finished Dylan's cast they rode the elevator back down to the pit. She gave Jackson directions on how to take care of his cast at home. "If he's experiencing pain in his arm, just give him a small dose of children's ibuprofen," she advised. "And if you have any questions, feel free to call us. I'll see you two again in ten days for a follow-up appointment."

Jackson carried Dylan in one arm and smiled. "Thank you, Dr. Kepner. What do you say to her, buddy?"

"Thank you for da lollipop and da cast, Dr. April," he enthusiastically said in his high-pitched voice. "You're pwetty."

April softly chuckled, tucking strands of her auburn hair behind her ear. "Well, that's a very nice thing to say. Thank you. I hope the rest of your day goes well."

Jackson kissed the top of his son's head. "C'mon, let's go get some late lunch, then we'll pick up your sister from school." He looked back at April as he turned around. "Thanks again. You were great with him."

Dylan waved over Jackson's shoulder as they headed towards the exit. "Bye, Dr. April!"

"Take care, you two," she called out to them, waving back at her patient. April received a nudge from behind and found her friend and colleague, Lexie Grey, standing beside her. "Hey, what are you doing down here?"

"I was paged for a neuro consult, but before I get to that, who was that man you were waving to?" the brunette inquired.

"What? Oh, I was waving to his son. Dylan was my patient. He's just the father." April adjusted her ponytail and dismissively waved her hand. "Broken arm, but he was a trooper about it."

Lexie smirked at her friend. "Is he single?"

"He's only five," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Don't play stupid with me, April. You know I'm talking about his insanely attractive father."

The redhead folded her arms in protest. "It doesn't matter. You already set me up for a blind date tonight, remember? How about I get that date out of the way before you start trying to find another man for me to waste my time on?"

"Waste your time on? I'm trying to find you a soulmate. You don't plan on staying single forever, do you?" Lexie chided. She gently squeezed April's shoulder and sighed. "Besides, I want to double date with you, but Mark and I can't exactly do that if you don't have somebody to make us a foursome."

"I'm sorry. Traumas keep me busy, you know? It's hard to find a respectable guy to date when most of the ones I encounter are bleeding out in my trauma room," April dejectedly replied, slumping her shoulders. "Being married to surgery isn't the worst thing in the world."

"If you say so," the neurosurgery fellow murmured. "You still haven't answered my question, by the way. Is that man single?"

April gestured towards the hospital beds occupied with patients. "Go take care of your consult, Lex," she nonchalantly stated. "I'll call you later tonight to let you know how my blind date went, alright?"

"Fine, fine. I'm going."

The trauma surgeon let out a sigh of relief after Lexie left her alone. While she enjoyed having conversations about various topics, her dating life wasn't one of them. Living the single life stopped bothering her when she became a surgeon. Her job prevented her from worrying about being the sad, single woman who would grow old alone. She would love to be married with children one day, but her focus was on the medicine.

Tucking his son into bed, Jackson piled a couple of pillows underneath Dylan's left arm to try to make him as comfortable as possible. Helping him shower after dinner had been a daunting task. His son had grown into his "big boy" mentality and he wanted to bathe himself, which wasn't an option. They were both stubborn, but the father eventually won out in the end.

"How is that? Is your arm feeling good?" Jackson asked, setting a stuffed tiger beside Dylan. His son nodded his head. "Remember not to sleep on your left side, alright? Your arm won't heal if you're sleeping on it."

"Daddy, when are we gonna see Dr. April again?"

"In ten days. Why?"

Dylan shyly grinned at his father. "She's cute! I like her. Can we bring her flowers?"

Jackson ran his hand along his shaved head and laughed. "You got a crush on her now? I thought you had a crush on that girl in your class. What was her name again? Carly?"

"Yeah, but Dr. April is so pwetty. Don't you think she is?" he curiously asked.

"Uhh, sure. She's a nice looking woman," Jackson timidly answered. There were other words he wanted to use to describe April, but he quickly reminded himself that he was talking to a 5-year old boy. He smiled to himself as he recalled her dimpled smile in his head. "And she's very sweet."

Dylan pointed at him. "Daddy, you like her!" he excitedly said.

He smirked, shaking his head. "All I said was that she's sweet."

"But she's not married and you're not married. What are you waiting for? Put a ring on it, Daddy!" the younger Avery demanded, throwing his right arm up in frustration.

Jackson slightly furrowed his brow. "Have you been listening to Beyoncé again?" he amusingly replied. Instead of allowing his son to continue his speculations, he leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "It's time to go to sleep, Dylan. Goodnight, buddy."

"G'night, Daddy."

After turning on the nightlight, Jackson switched off the lamp and walked out of Dylan's bedroom. He briefly checked on his daughter, Charlotte, who was already asleep in her own bedroom. While the day was over for his children, he still felt wide awake enough to head to his office and organize lesson plans for the following day. This was his daily routine. It left little room for dating, but his children always came first. Teaching came next and then everything else.

Sometimes the single life wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

"Ever climb down a 40-foot ladder with two kids on your shoulders, while flames are burning down the building? Because let me tell you, the rush you feel when your life is on the line – it's better than sex," Charles Percy enthusiastically bragged to April, who was seated across from him at a restaurant in downtown Seattle. He was a firefighter who Lexie had set up her friend with for the blind date. "Ever slide down a fire pole?"

April dabbed her mouth with a napkin, then she cleared her throat. "No. I can't say I have," she answered, forcing a smile. They had been sitting in the restaurant for at least a half an hour, but she only managed to talk about herself for five minutes. Her date was a nonstop chatterbox who barely let her get a word out. Everything was about his job and how exciting it was, yet she found herself completely uninterested.

If she was really desperate, she would have taken her fork and stabbed Charles in the eye – or stabbed herself with it. This wasn't her first miserable date, but it had been a while since she wanted to grab her purse and run out. He seemed like a decent guy until he opened his mouth.

He was in the middle of sharing another so-called heroic story when she decided she had had enough. "Umm, I think my pager is buzzing in my purse," the redhead interrupted. She opened her purse and picked up her pager. "Oh, it's the hospital. I should definitely call in to see what they want. Excuse me."

She nearly sprinted out of the dining area and towards the women's restroom. The trauma surgeon dialed Lexie's number and waited for an answer. "Hey, Lexie," she greeted her best friend. "I'm going to kill you tomorrow."

"Is your date that awful?"

"Yes! Charles won't stop talking about himself. He doesn't even have the courtesy to ask me anything about myself," April complained. She took a quick peek at her table and her mouth dropped open when she caught her date stealing food from her plate. "And now he's eating my dinner! Where did you find this guy?"

"He was one of Mark's patients. Charles got a nasty burn saving an old lady and I thought maybe he'd be perfect for you," Lexie explained and sighed. "Fine, I'll take responsibility for this one, but maybe this means you can give that other guy a shot. You know, the nurse I set you up with from Peds. Umm, Stewart?"

"No, no. That won't be necessary. I think I need a break from these blind dates."

"To be fair, Stewart isn't a blind date since you've already been on a date with him."

April softly groaned. "Don't be a smart ass, Lex. I just… I'll see you in the morning." She hung up on her coworker and contemplated fleeing from the restaurant, but there were two problems – her purse was sitting on her chair and the exit required walking through the dining area again. The trauma surgeon scolded herself for not planning a better escape route. She took one deep breath before she whispered to herself, "Suck it up and tell him you have to go to work."

Casually reentering the dining area, April stood beside the table with a saddened expression on her face. "I'm so sorry, but the hospital needs me. We're gonna have to cut this date short," she explained in her fakest disappointed voice. She grabbed her purse and held out her hand. "Thank you for dinner, Charles. It was a pleasure to meet you."

The burly man slightly furrowed his brow, then he shook her hand. "Likewise," he responded, suddenly flashing a grin at her. "If you ever want to meet up again-"

"Oh! Pager's buzzing again. I really have to go," April hurriedly stated before walking away as quickly as possible. From the moment she stepped outside, it felt like somebody finally removed handcuffs from her wrists. She felt inclined to do a victory dance, but she opted to find her car, so she could go home sooner.

After driving herself home, she walked into her apartment dejectedly. It was a single bedroom apartment located directly across from Seattle Grace Hospital. Living a hundred feet away from her job made it easier for her to report to work regardless if she was on-call or not. A part of her wanted to change out of her floral dress and see if the ER needed extra hands. It seemed more fun than being on a dreadful bind date.

Rather than change into her pajamas, April decided to heat up a bag of popcorn and watch a movie – alone. It wasn't the first time she had a date with herself. Many of her failed blind dates ended this way. Escaping into the fictional world of rom-coms helped her temporarily forget that she was single and lonely. Her last boyfriend was kind and treated her well. He worked in Dermatology at the hospital, but even working in the same building didn't prevent them from having problems. Her dedication to trauma surgery resulted in less time to be with her ex-boyfriend.

And her experience in relationships was lacking. She only had two long term relationships since high school – neither of them actually occurring during her teenage years. Her lack of experience made for awkward interactions with the opposite sex. She was more comfortable putting her hands inside of an open body cavity than conversing with men.

Work was always there for her, but she hoped to settle down with a husband one day. It would help if she met someone she clicked with, though. So far, that man hadn't arrived yet.

For now, it was just going to be her and Pretty Woman for the rest of the night.

The weekend arrived and that left Jackson alone with peace and quiet. It was the children's weekend with their mother in Portland, giving the history teacher plenty of room to relax for a couple of days. Before his relaxation time could happen, though, he needed to grade the tests he gave out to two of his classes first. Instead of grading at home, he went to the nearest Starbucks to pass the time. Staying at home meant he would likely distract himself by turning on the TV to find the best college football game to watch, but he wanted to get his grading out of the way.

Plus, grading at Starbucks had its perks – people watching, iced caffè mocha and a spinach and feta breakfast wrap. Jackson sat at a table in the corner, a red pen in one hand and his breakfast wrap in the other. Occasionally, he shook his head at some of his students' answers. Nixon was not around during the slavery era. If good etiquette hadn't been required in his teaching protocol, he would have written 'idiot' on more than a few tests.

The coffee shop wasn't very crowded, which was a relief. Less distractions to worry about. Jackson set his red pen down to take a sip from his iced caffè mocha and noticed a familiar face walk inside. April removed her earbuds as she approached the cashier. She wore running attire and her hair was fixed in a ponytail. He couldn't help but stare at her. It was those damn tight-fitting spandex pants she wore that outlined her backside. She had unzipped her jacket to fan herself after finishing her run around the city.

Jackson stuffed his mouth with his breakfast wrap, his eyes shooting down at the test in front of him. That was his son's doctor. He was not gonna go there.

But he couldn't help it. He glanced back up at the redhead. Maybe a quick hello wouldn't hurt, he thought. And neither of them were at work, so it wouldn't be unprofessional. He had little time to decide after she received her strawberry smoothie at the pick-up counter.

She was on her way out until he blurted, "Dr. April! I mean, Dr. Kepner!" Jackson wanted to punch himself in the face because he had grown used to listening to Dylan call her Dr. April. He quickly waved at her when she spotted him.

April walked towards Jackson and smiled. "Hi, Mr. Avery. You look very different from the last time I saw you."

The history teacher wore a University of Washington hoodie and old, faded blue jeans with a pair of Nike's. "Oh, it's my free weekend. The kids are with their mother, so I'm just grading tests to pass the time."

"You're a teacher?" she asked curiously. Truthfully, that was one of the last ideas she had in mind when she first saw him dressed in a nice shirt and tie.

"Yes. I teach most of the history classes at the Pacific West Academy."

"I see. That's a really good school from what I've heard." April pointed at the pile of ungraded tests on the table. "Anyway, I should let you get back to that."

Jackson gestured towards the empty seat across from him. "Actually, I could use a break. Why don't you have a seat?" he offered eagerly. "I have uhh, questions about Dylan's arm."

"Oh, gosh. How rude of me. I completely forgot to ask you about how he's doing," she sheepishly replied, sitting down on the chair. "Is he feeling any discomfort? Any problems with the cast?"

"Sometimes he complains about being sore, but I've given him the ibuprofen like you said. He tries to convince me he can shower by himself, but I know he won't be able to avoid getting that cast wet," he answered with a chuckle. Jackson immediately noticed the tank top underneath April's jacket. Her cleavage was an even bigger distraction and he tried his hardest to keep his eyes focused on her face. "Uhh, will… will he need any rehab afterwards? I- I know he's only five and his bones are still bursting- growing, but I figured it'll be stiff- umm, sore when the cast is off."

April quietly slurped her smoothie and wondered why Jackson was stuttering. There was something on her face, she thought. A bug ran into her and died during her run. He was probably too embarrassed to tell her. "There will definitely be some stiffness, but some simple exercises will help ease that away," she explained.

"Okay, cool." There was an awkward silence between them. Jackson casually smiled, while the trauma surgeon shyly drank her smoothie again. "So, how long have you been working at Seattle Grace?"

"Two years. I'm originally from Ohio. I completed my residency in Cleveland before I moved out here. How long have you been teaching?"

"Five years at the academy, but I've been teaching since grad school, so about ten years now," he answered, then he pointed at himself. "I'm not originally from here either. I was raised in Boston. My mother's actually a doctor too. Runs her own practice over there. Urologist. What made you decide to become a trauma surgeon?"

"I like the idea of being the first hands on deck when a trauma comes rushing in through those ER doors," April responded and shrugged. "And something different always shows up. It's like a new experience every day. And Seattle Grace is a teaching hospital, so I know a thing or two about teaching the interns and residents. I love it."

Someone who enjoyed teaching? Jackson grew infatuated instantly. "You know, I go by the saying, 'The one exclusive sign of thorough knowledge is-"

"Is the power of teaching," April finished and softly chuckled. "Sorry, I used to quote Aristotle in my philosophy class all the time. But I believe in that too."

The woman was driving him crazy! Perhaps his friends would tease him for being so turned on by a woman who was passionate about teaching, but he found that incredibly sexy. His inner nerd was slowly beginning to reveal himself. "So, you're not working today?" he inquisitively asked.

She shook her head. "Nope, but I have a bunch of errands to run, so it's not exactly a day off either."

"Oh, okay. Well, I don't want to hold you back," he insisted. "I guess Dylan and I will see you in a few days for his follow up."

"Yes, definitely." April stood up from her seat and smiled. "It was nice talking to you, Mr. Avery."

"Jackson," he politely corrected her. "You can call me Jackson. My students are the ones who call me Mr. Avery. Well, them and annoying telemarketers."

The redhead giggled and nodded. "Alright, noted. I'm April."

"Yeah, I know- I mean, you said your first name when you introduced yourself and Dylan goes around calling you Dr. April all the time," Jackson added, forcing himself to laugh. "Anyway, see ya, April."

"Bye, Jackson," she playfully said before leaving Starbucks.

Watching her pass by the window, Jackson smiled to himself as he returned to grading his tests. What started as a boring morning turned into a satisfying day and it wasn't even lunchtime yet. After his short conversation with April, he was looking forward to Dylan's follow up appointment even more now.

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