But, Naveen wasn't here -- he was a dance performance. Al needed to try. He slid his legs off the side of the bed and grabbed his crutch. He put his weight onto his good leg and winced slightly as he tried to put weight onto his other leg. His hurt arm was in a sling. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took in a slow breath. He hobbled a bit, but managed to keep himself upright as he walked along the hallway. He looked around curiously.
He got a far ways before he became distracted with photographs of Naveen from when he was younger. The slick floor took the crutch out from under him as he leaned on it. And, so he went down. He groaned, laying on his back and staring at the tall ceiling. "Great going, Aladdin," He muttered to himself as he pushed himself up on his good elbow.