After the first set was over, Clara went around all the desks to collect in the textbooks Chris had asked her to hand out at the start. She placed them in a neat enough stack on the young male's desk, not far from where he was sitting.

"Wow," he almost breathed in amazement, "wish that your room was just as tidy as that."

"I like to make an impression."

"You certainly did that." He noted, his eyes giving off a playful shimmer. "You didn't go unnoticed from some of the boys in that set, you know."

She twirled the ends of her hair coyly. She didn't want to see herself as particularly good-looking, but it was flattering for such a remark to have come from her own parent.

"Still trying to work out what job to go for?" Chris's voice came from within her reverie.

She snapped to. "Sorry."

A playful smile switched from his concerned expression.

"I haven't given it much thought, to be honest."

"You just seemed really thoughtful for a few seconds." He stopped what he was writing. "Not from what I just said, is it?"

She shook her head. "I was only going to ask you what more you want me to help with." She fibbed.

"Oh." He swiftly looked up from where he was behind his desk. "Everything's pretty much all done."

Clara looked around for something to get on with, knowing full well that he was right. Everything was pretty much as it was when they came in earlier that morning.

"Don't feel like you have to stay in here." He continued. He didn't know why he said that, as he wanted her with him at all times so he knew where she was and that she was ok. "Just don't go far."

"I'd rather stay here…" She caught his eager gaze. "…With you."

"So being in here with me doesn't bore you then?" He teased.

"No." She laughed. "I like staying in here with you."

He smirked at her remark and he went back to what he was writing. He was unaware of her gaze on him, not knowing that she couldn't help but find him cute when he was reading or writing.

"One of your last lot spilt something." She suddenly stated, noticing a small clear pool of something on the floor near to where she was sitting.

Chris knew that wasn't good, and the last thing he wanted was for her to sort that out. He swiftly emerged from behind his desk that time. "You wanna leave that to me?"

"Why?" Clara looked to him.

"'Cause it could be dangerous."
By the time he'd gotten to where she was, she'd already touched it.

"Ouch."

"I told you to leave that to me, Clara." He wrapped her hand up in a towel and immediately put that under the nearest tap on cold. "Silly girl…"

"I just wanted to help."

"I know you did, honey, but that was…you should've left that to me, hands down." He rebuked her softly. "If you…could excuse the pun."

She smiled a little, feeling the searing pain fade away. She figured it must've been the fact that he was holding her there rather than the water actually doing what it should.

"How does that feel now?"

"A lot better."

He gently peeled the towel away from her, noticing nothing untoward. "It looks a little red, but apart from that it's fine." His eyes fixed onto her firmly. "Don't ever attempt to clear anything like that up, you don't know what it'd be."

"I'm sorry."

He took on a laxer posture, his eyes becoming less firm and more affectionate. How he could flit from work mode to paternal mode astounded her. "Don't worry about it for now, I got to you quick enough and it won't get any worse."

Clara was sure she'd shocked him when she reached out with her unharmed hand and cupped his face softly, yet he didn't shy away or tell her to stop.
Such lovely skin…

If anything, Chris took on a more bemused expression. He didn't mind his own daughter touching him in a non-intimate place in a non-intimate way, but why then, of all times? He was at work, for goodness' sake!

"You've been so good to me," she spoke softly, "and I don't know how to thank you."

"Y-you don't have to." He might as well say what he would've said in any given situation with her. "You're family, aren't you?"

"But we've spent so much time apart…I don't see how we can make up for it."

"We will." He wanted to refrain from hugging her, especially if she'd been hurt – and the fact that anyone walking by outside his room could look in and see did worry him. "I don't know how, but we will, I promise."

She wrapped her arms around his slender waist, simply wanting the feel of him against her. She sighed deeply at the contact, sensing his warm soft body pressed up to her.

What could he have done about it? It wasn't as though he didn't like it, but why there? She had him in a vicelike grip, as if she wasn't going to let go of him.

"I love you."

Tentatively, he stroked her at the back of her head, sliding his fingers through her long hair. "I love you too." He looked to see what time it was. "I'm going to have to get back to my marking, I'm afraid."

"What about me?"

Chris perched himself back behind his desk. He didn't want to have to consistently find stuff for Clara to get on with as he was behind enough with his own work.

He didn't exactly want to tell her to go away and find something by herself, as that wasn't fair. He told her he would take charge of her and that wasn't something he'd let fall by the wayside – not when it came down to things regarding family. "You can stay here if you want," he made to continue his marking, "but really and honestly, I haven't got anything else for you."

She pouted as she took a seat behind the first row of desks. She wanted to make it up to him after the previous night. She was sure she'd hurt him, but if she hadn't hurt him, whoever did that to her probably did.

He quickly allowed his gaze to dart to her, inwardly thankful that she'd decided to stay put and keep quiet. He went back to what he was doing.

Once he'd gotten through the first half of papers he'd marked, he noticed her in the same position. He went over to her. "You still feeling bad after what had gone on last night?"

She nodded sadly. "A little."

"Don't worry," he wrapped an arm around her, "that guy won't touch you again 'cause I'm forbidding you to go anywhere on your own."

She swallowed a sob back down into her throat. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise." He stated softly. "It happened, neither of us could stop it but you're safe now."

Clara looked up at the time later that evening. Half-past seven. At that time, she'd be getting herself dolled up in the bar's changing rooms with the other dancers, deciding which skimpy, sequin-adorned number went with which stilettos.
A big change to where she currently was.

"You ok?" Chris's voice came from her side.

She looked to see his bright, blue eyes fixed onto her concernedly. "I guess so."

"You miss working there, don't you?"

She nodded slowly. "But you're right. I shouldn't be there doing things like that."

He felt a wave of guilt crash over him. He'd taken away his own daughter's job, but rightly so.
He was also worried that what had been going on was pulling them both apart. She didn't have a good upbringing, which he could understand, but he really was trying to make it all work for both of them – give her some form of normality.

She drew in a small sigh, feeling her muscles ache at feeling tired. "I should go to bed." She got up off the sofa, expecting him to get up and follow her so he could get her settled. He stayed put.

"Try and get some sleep, ok?"

She nodded dimly. The next day could see her feeling even worse than before. "'Night, dad."

"'Night, honey. I love you."

She glowed inwardly at his response. "I love you too."

Chris didn't spend that long staying up. He went to go to bed when he quietly opened the door to Clara's room to see her deeply asleep.

She was tired and he knew he was right to have suggested she slept. He positioned himself on her bed, carefully gathering up her long dark hair and allowing it to scatter to one side over the blankets.

He must've spent an eternity with her, twirling the dark ends around his index finger and causing them to spiral prettily against her skin. He could easily do that all day and all night, simply playing with her hair. It felt so soft and silky.

He leant over her, cupping her face softly and caressing the contour of her cheek by allowing his thumb to graze along it and trace its curve. She was so angelic as she laid there, her purity highlighted by her fair flesh and slightly rosy cheeks. He planted a sugar-soft kiss on her forehead, eliciting an indolent mumble from her. She sounded just as sweet as she looked. "'Night, my angel…sweet dreams."