Well, Isabelle knew this had been coming. She was packing an overnight bag in her room when her father happened to glance in on his way past the open door. He said he was on his way out, to anoher meeting, then asked, "Back to New York again?"

Isabelle flicked her hair over her shoulder as she straightened up, leaving the bag be for the moment. "I'm going to Fandom," she said, far more chirpy than necessary. "I'm teaching a workshop there for the next month and a half. Didn't I tell you?"

She knew she hadn't told him. He'd been busy with his work – the endless Clave meetings on how to rebuild their people after the war – and she hadn't felt like talking about it. Or arguing about it, which seemed like the case might have been.

Predictably, her father looked wary, at best. "Teaching? A workshop on what, exactly?"

"Oh, being fabulous while fighting." She was going to think of the twitch of his lips as a trick of the light. He couldn't have possibly wanted to smile at that. Not Robert Lightwood. "We're going to talk about feather boa care as well as the right outfits for the weapons you want to conceal. That kind of thing."

"And you think that's useful to teach to mundanes?"

One day Robert was going to understand the difference between Fandomites and people on the street back in NYC. But guess today wasn't that day. So Isabelle rolled her eyes. "They teach mundanes at the Academy, too." Like Flick, for instance.

"That's different."

"It's not, really."

At this response, her father huffed, quiet and exasperated. Then he shook his head. "I wouldn't have expected you to take an interest in teaching, Isabelle."

Isabelle shrugged as she went to pick up another dress she'd laid out on the bed. Sure, she wasn't intending to go to Fandom for many days at a time, but a girl needed options! "Well, I'm an expert in my field," she quipped, "so it seems only right that I should pass my knowledge on to some younger people. And besides..." She trailed off, seemingly considering the dress she was holding. Really, she was considering whether she wanted to say this next part out loud. To him. Their relationship, while slowly getting better, wasn't still anything you'd call good. She didn't really trust him.

And yet.

"I don't know, when I was at the hospital, I had time to think," she continued, trying for idle and just hitting softer, "it just came to me that I wanted to, I don't know. Do something useful?"

"Isabelle!" When she looked over at her father, he was –– did he look paler than he had just a moment ago? "When were you at the hospital?"

"Mom didn't tell you?"

"No, your mother did not tell me. So why were you at the hospital?"

"I had an allergic reaction to some tulips." She didn't need to be more specific than that. The last thing she needed was her father trying to accuse her boyfriend of trying to poison her. "I couldn't really breathe for a little bit there, so we went to the hospital and I had to stay over for observation for a bit. But it was no big deal."

Robert didn't look like it wasn't a big deal. "And when was this?"

She shrugged. "A couple of weeks ago. But it wasn't a big deal." Yes it had been. "It was just a surprise." And a surprise that would mean she'd be checking bouquets of flowers a little more carefully from now on. But there was a limit to what she was willing to reveal here. "Anyway, so, that's part of why I'm going." A beat, then she added for levity: "But mostly I just want to show off in front of the new kids."

Her father looked like he was going to do something. It looked sort of like he wanted to move closer.

But he didn't.

The moment passed. "Well," he said. "Then I suppose I'll see you whenever you come back, and you can tell me more about this teaching work. Now, I have to go."

And so he left.

[ooc: NFB but open for that guy that lives in this country, should he so wish.]