It was still fairly early in the evening when Velma returned home, and true to form, the customers certainly did appreciate the show.  She was met with the expected racious applause and occasional whistle or cat call.  It was all in good fun, but of course it made father grumpy, well, grumpier.  Still, even for him, he took it in stride.  It was however, the next morning when he knocked lightly on her door, and waited for her invite before entering her room.<br/><br/><strong>"Ahhh," </strong>he said scratching his grey beard,<strong>"So th' last time you came home totally bare, you'd shifted.  Now You know I trust you and love you daughter, but do you want to talk about it?  Do we have to worry about the guard showing up looking for you?" </strong>Bless his soul, he wasn't worried about being in trouble, he was worried about her, as usual.  He'd said 'do WE have to worry' not 'do I'.  A small distinction, but one that made all the world of difference in intent.