No, no, that last one is still 'DAD'-worthy. He's had at least one good scare in the past, and at least one--ahem, little accident, who stands before him in the kitchen. And anyway, he did well in his education when he was her age. He just didn't get along with the other children. But that's what private tutoring is for--to make the antisocial even more antisocial and protect most of society from them until they're on their own.
Richard chuckles at her comment about DARE and examines the stains still clinging to his hands, plunging his fingers under the water for one more quick scrub. "Yeah, well, there are things I have to pretend to be more worried about than I am. Poor thing. I know it's boring, but someday soon it'll be over. Be bored as you like, just keep doing well." She could skip half the days--and probably does for all he knows or really cares, although private schools do tend to be a bit more rigid about attendance--and he wouldn't be too concerned as long as she still managed to land high marks. Though, that's more a concern of obligation.
Sometimes he feels like a deaf man raising a soprano. Her responsibility, where the hell did it come from? Certainly not from him. And definitely not from Susan, holy shit. Must be from the same obscure gene her blonde came from.
"Of course I do things 'just because'." Like that amputee. That was a weird fucking night, but totally worth it for the story.
Richard suffers himself a kiss upon his cheek and grins, lifting his hand to flick the water from his fingers at her before grabbing for the phone. He places the order, over-enunciating, repeating himself and saying 'what' so many times Jules Winnfield would shoot him while he struggles with communicating with the Chinese immigrant on the other end of the line.
That's fine, he supposes. The longer it takes, the more he can delay the future conversation, which he expects will be--weird, to say the least, after sixteen years of bachelorhood.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-07-29 04:47 am (UTC)Richard chuckles at her comment about DARE and examines the stains still clinging to his hands, plunging his fingers under the water for one more quick scrub. "Yeah, well, there are things I have to pretend to be more worried about than I am. Poor thing. I know it's boring, but someday soon it'll be over. Be bored as you like, just keep doing well." She could skip half the days--and probably does for all he knows or really cares, although private schools do tend to be a bit more rigid about attendance--and he wouldn't be too concerned as long as she still managed to land high marks. Though, that's more a concern of obligation.
Sometimes he feels like a deaf man raising a soprano. Her responsibility, where the hell did it come from? Certainly not from him. And definitely not from Susan, holy shit. Must be from the same obscure gene her blonde came from.
"Of course I do things 'just because'." Like that amputee. That was a weird fucking night, but totally worth it for the story.
Richard suffers himself a kiss upon his cheek and grins, lifting his hand to flick the water from his fingers at her before grabbing for the phone. He places the order, over-enunciating, repeating himself and saying 'what' so many times Jules Winnfield would shoot him while he struggles with communicating with the Chinese immigrant on the other end of the line.
That's fine, he supposes. The longer it takes, the more he can delay the future conversation, which he expects will be--weird, to say the least, after sixteen years of bachelorhood.