The atmosphere that followed was, as expected, a really heavy and awkward thing for Jacques. Bordering on uncomfortable if he was being honest. As, once again, the entire exchange with Weiss had hit far too close to that sore spot he called sentiments, where he kept shoving his unaddressed childhood issues.
Yet, all he did was try to stifle that same old bitterness in his heart, and keep his arms around the just as, if not more, bad-at-feelings girl as she cried her heart out in the garden they were out in while making a vow to kick Ol' Mustache in the nuts should he ever meet him.
Moments passed, and with them, Weiss' cries had subsided into softer and tired heaves that were soon replaced with a tight silence just as quickly.
Weiss's hands, which had been clutching the back of his jacket, stiffened. The recollection of what she was doing, and who she was doing it with, clearly lit back some of her mother's fire in her. Her palms were soon against his impeccable pecks, pushing him away.
Jacques didn't fight the resistance. He let his arms drop, and his hands retreated to his side to his lap.
Weiss scrunched her face into a soft scowl as she rubbed her eyes roughly and tried to smooth her clothes and hair back into something a tad more presentable.
Jacques reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief -a bit cliché, he thought, but eh- and held it out toward her before changing his mind and just laying it on the floor between them.
"That..." Her voice was cracked, and even as it held a semblance of the anger she felt. She had to pause to swallow, her throat no doubt hoarse from the earlier shouting. "That... doesn't change anything."
He was smart enough to at least know that she wasn't talking about the piece of cloth, so he was clearly getting a bit better at not putting his foot in his mouth. That was proven true enough with the simple and short nod with a soft "I know." Seemed to put his daughter at ease.
She crawled back some till her back was against the base of the fountain, and she pulled her knees to her chest. Her red-rimmed eyes flickered toward him at last. "…why did you come?"
Jacques held his tongue for a moment as he thought about what to say next before sighing. He should probably not tell her that her snowflake-patterned panties were showing. They were kind of adorable. "Headmaster Ozpin invited me to the Vytal Festival. It seemed improper to refuse."
"Vytal isn't an invitation event," Weiss scoffed softly. "And since when did you actually care about what was proper?"
"When it gave me an excuse to come and see you," Jacques replied honestly. "You're always too honest and straight-laced to curse me in public if your headmaster told you I was a guest."
"That is absurd. I would never shame myself like that in public," she huffed, though the bite in her tone was gone. She shifted her knees, pulling them tighter against her chest. "You could have just sent a message. Or called. You did not have to fly to Vale."
"I tried the scroll," he said, letting out an amused huff. "You hung up on me before I could even get it to ring."
Weiss looked away, a faint flush creeping up her neck. She picked at a loose thread on her skirt. "You deserved it," she muttered. "And it's not like I haven't spent countless hours trying to call you after the attack, so don't try to act innocent."
"I am mature enough to admit that I am not mature enough to handle rejection well." Jacques shrugged. "But things were relatively dangerous on our end, so a bit of time was needed- a bit more opacity while cleaning and tying loose ends up, just as Winter no doubt told you."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "... And I kinda needed to practice how to best apologize to you."
Weiss bit her lip at the last comment. "…You should've practiced more. It was horrible."
"Yeah, I kinda got that." He gestured vaguely with one hand, a frustrated motion. "S'pose it still went better than it did with your mother. Not sure if she told you, but I spent the next couple of hours pulling glass shards out of my head."
"She did." The corner of her mouth twitched in a way that wasn't quite a smile, but certainly wasn't a scowl anymore.
It went unsaid that the second reason was so that Willow could try and fix and salvage whatever daughterly affection Weiss had for her. More loved by Weiss than he was, Jacques wasn't naive enough to think that his daughter didn't hold some resentment.
"She did," Weiss repeated with a more pensive tone. "She said some things, too. We talked about a lot of things about the past, and about now. She asked about Beacon. About my team. Friends, and other stuff, too."
"We also talked about you," Weiss looked down at her boots, "She…She also said that you were earnestly trying... to make things right, I suppose."
Jacques felt a strange sensation in his chest. He looked at the fountain, watching the water cycle through the basin, and forced himself to let a word out. "I see... Do you believe her?" he asked more pathetically than he intended.
Weiss stayed silent for a long time. When she finally looked up, her eyes were more tired. "I don't know." The confession seemed to drag out of her. "I don't know if I want to, either."
He closed his eyes and nodded. "That is your prerogative. What of your little brother? You spoke with him as well, I reckon. He's but a boy, and he shares nothing of your mother, and I's fuckups?"
"I know that!" Weiss retorted, scandalized he would even think that. "I'm not going to blame someone who had done nothing wrong just to feel better about myself. I'm not you." She tried to put as much poison as she could into that last sentence, but it came out more whiny than anything, much to her smoldering anger.
Jacques lowered his gaze.
"...I understand."
"No, I don't think you do." Weiss frowned and continued softly. "And he doesn't either. He was as much a victim of you as the rest of us, trying to survive in that house. If only he opened his eyes and realized it, the stubborn little idiot."
"Pot. Kettle. Black," Jacques muttered under his breath.
Weiss's head snapped toward him.
"What?"
He met her stare for all of two seconds before wisely looking away.
"…Nothing."
Weiss continued glaring at him for another few moments before letting out an annoyed scoff and turning away.
"…So," Jacques ventured after another long stretch of silence. "What are you going to do now?" He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Going to throttle another cat girl?"
"Depends. Are you going to kidnap her first?" She glared at him from the corner of her eye.
"Fair enough," he admitted. "In my defense, I only wished to see what sort of friends my daughter spends her time with." He paused before leaning closer. "You two are friends, right?"
Weiss fought the urge to wince.
Things had improved after their impromptu bout of team therapy, but there was still an undeniable awkwardness between them. The morning's attempted strangulation hadn't exactly helped matters either.
"...Y-Yes," she answered after a beat. "We are." She cleared her throat. "The best of friends, even. But that's beside the point!" Weiss quickly gathered her composure. "We are here to discuss a much more urgent and pressing matter."
She jabbed a finger at him with all the indignation she could muster. "You are a shit father."
The accused shit father did not contest the charge. "We've already established that, yes," Jacques replied with a solemn nod.
"And a liar to boot," she continued, refusing to let him derail her momentum. "Quite honestly, that should be more than enough reason for me to dismiss everything you've said about redemption and change as nothing more than another pack of self-serving lies."
"The logic is sound," Jacques conceded with another thoughtful nod. "The conclusion follows naturally." He did not attempt to argue. "...However?" he prompted.
"...I am willing to be..." She grimaced before forcing herself to continue. "...cordial, at least for the duration of your stay in Vale. For Mother's sake, if nothing else." She quickly raised a finger before he could say anything. "But! I have a condition!"
"I understand," Jacques folded his hands in his lap. "Very well, let us hear it."
Weiss took a large inhale and met his eyes head-on. "From this moment onward, you will not lie to me. You will not withhold information that concerns me or this family. You will not decide what I should or should not know. And you will never ignore me again."
There wasn't an ounce of uncertainty in her voice.
"I don't care how insignificant you think something is. I don't care if you believe you're protecting me, or Mother, or Whitley, or anyone else."
She leaned forward ever so slightly, blue eyes locked onto his.
"There will be no more secrets, no more half-truths, no more deciding what's 'for my own good', and certainly no damn smug frog pictures. If it concerns us, you tell me. I deserve to know."
For his part, Jacques listened silently, and allowed her to speak uninterrupted. When her mouth closed again, and she looked down at him defiantly and quite a bit desperately, much as she tried to hide it, he made sure to give it several moments of contemplation of her words. Quite a tall order, yet…for all that it was, he'd deemed reasonable enough, taking into consideration where she was coming from.
Fair enough, he guessed.
He rested his hands on his knees before a firm slap on them settled the matter within himself.
"...Very well. That is a reasonable request. I accept."
Reaching into his shadow, he withdrew a dark glass bottle bearing an expensive-enough-to-rival-a-state-gdp label that he took from Willow's cabinet. It was a good vintage, though one he'd already diluted enough that it would barely qualify as proper liquor anymore.
He held it between them.
"Then let us mark the occasion."
Weiss eyed the bottle suspiciously.
"...With alcohol?"
"With a toast." He corrected and gave the bottle a small shake. "A promise is easy to make. Rituals have a way of making one remember them." The corners of his mouth tilted. When she made to protest, he raised a hand. "And before you object, I watered it down. I'm trying to rebuild our relationship, not earn another lecture from Glynda for supplying a student with hard liquor."
The girl in front of him was clearly wary, but there was also a look of poorly hidden satisfaction at her request being treated as seriously as it was, and that she was deemed mature enough to be included in such a drinking vow as she'd seen on TV Dramas and Blake's barely passable novels. Not that she'd ever admit to ever reading that filth.
Weiss crossed her arms, doing her utmost to look unimpressed. She failed spectacularly. "I accept that proposal." Weiss crossed her arms, and Jacques had produced two crystal tumblers and set them on the stone. Giving Weiss the bottle, he motioned for her to do the honors.
Weiss pulled the cork free, and she carefully poured a modest measure into each glass. She paused. She added a bit more to her glass. Then, a bit more to boot.
Your mother's daughter. He kept his pie hole shut and picked up his glass.
He raised it. "To honesty."
"...To honesty."
The rims met with a clink, and father and daughter both took a drink. With a small sip, Jacques put his glass down and addressed Weiss, with her contorted face and empty glass in one hand, and the bottle in the other, trying to keep it together.
"Now then," he began, folding his hands together, "with the vow taken, I believe it is only appropriate that I start honoring it immediately."
Weiss's attention snapped back to him.
"There is something you should know."
He hesitated. Truth be told, he was kind of hesitant to part with that particular tidbit of information, but he had made a vow, and his littlest breeze had been quite explicit in her condition.
No more secrets.
"You have some cute panties," Jacques let out a quiet sigh through his nose. "The snowflake pattern is quite adorable."
…..
…..
"I...I wish to amend my condition," Weiss managed through gritted teeth. Her face was the color of a ripe tomato, though the liquor had absolutely nothing to do with it. She also wore a brittle smile that was quite scary if he was to be honest, doubly so, with the shattered remains of the bottle still clutched in one hand.
Ever the magnanimous person, Jacques agreed at once. "Certainly. What did you have in mind?" he asked politely, all while plucking a few lingering shards of glass from his hair.