She manages to get a finger underneath the blouse's hem and begins delicately mangling it, weighing whether or not she wants to push more.
... Yeah, she kind of wants her dad to meet the vampire boyfriend that's hopelessly in love with her. She wants a second opinion on him, wants someone besides her to like him so she can go, aha, excellent, I have good taste and my head's still properly attached to my neck. This calls for drastic measures.
"... Please?" she says, softly.
"... All right," sighs her father. "Give me a couple of minutes?"
"Okay, Papa. I love you."
And then she flees downstairs to maybe go hug her vampire boyfriend who definitely heard all of that, so she can't just pretend everything is okay.
Yeah she can have all of the hugs she wants.
Excellent. She wants all of them. Each and every one.
"So. Not a good day, but not the worst he's had," she mumbles into his shoulder.
"Is... your father...?" He doesn't say okay because it's obvious that's not something the man is even in the vicinity of, but.
"He... my mother passed about four years ago. He hasn't, um. Recovered. You didn't wonder why I was so hesitant to break a stranger's heart forever?"
"He had melancholy tendencies before, but." Lean, sigh. "Blair was getting frustrated with him and I didn't want two family members getting into an incurable mood, so I twisted his arm and made him get some space."
He nods. "That was probably a good idea."
"Yep. It was a very clever plan with excellent intentions and good execution, yet it ended up with me alone with my mournful father with no idea if my brother was even alive or not, so, uh." Hug. "Can we stop talking about this, I want to try to be cheerful for dinner."
"Okay. I hope he enjoys the food, I don't actually know what he likes eating."
She watches him stuff his complicated emotions into a box with a little apologetic smile, then leans up and gently kisses him.
"I'm sure it'll be lovely," she assures him. "And if it's not, then that's not really why you're here anyway, is it, hm? You're here to meet my father and delight your girlfriend with your presence, so who cares if the food isn't absolute perfection the first time we try this."
"But I must cause a good impression! Through food."
"He's going to care way more about how you look at me and treat me than how good you are at cooking, James."
"Treating you to food is treating you," he insists.
"Point. Help me set the table?"
He can do that easily enough.
And soon enough, the table is set, and an elderly and gaunt looking man in spectacles edges nervously down the stairs.
"Hi, Papa," says Yvette, trying on a smile that almost fits. "James, this is my father, and father, this is James, my ah. My boyfriend." She has never said this sentence to a family member before. Uh. Wow that was a little bit stilted and awkward, wasn't it, let's try some more words. "... Who is a dentist!"
Yeaaah she's just going to stop talking now.
Franklin's mouth twitches. "Pleasure to meet you, James-the-dentist," he says, dryly.
Well, Franklin will be treated to James gazing adoringly at Yvette. Because she's adorable and he adores her.
Then he manages to look at Franklin. "The pleasure is entirely mine, Mr. Lowell."
"I think statistically speaking that is highly improbable," he says, dubiously, then he grimaces slightly and looks away. "Anyway, you uh, cook?"
"I do! I hope you like it, I haven't cooked for other people in a while and I'm a little rusty."
He shrugs vaguely in lieu of a reply. It does not seem like having food preferences occurs to him as a thing to have.
"If you enjoy it you should, er." He waves a hand. "Do this again? Without the whole, ah. Formal dinner meet-the-parents bit, I mean."
"That'd be nice," agrees Yvette, softly. "If you wouldn't mind, Papa."