Needless to say, Jefferson was easily able to identify why Skylar was hesitant to speak with her father about such matters. However, Jefferson himself had been to hell and back -- he was a rapist himself, apparently -- and somehow, such conversation didn't strike him unfairly. He wasn't stricken awkwardly, nor uncomfortably: the brute simply mellowed and looked at her with a sympathetic green eye. Rape was not easy conversation: to find out that his somewhat-neice had been forced to endure such abuse sparked quite a bit of fire within, but his fuse had been considerably burnt as of late, and thus it was surprisingly easy to withstand the upset and not grow angry. He maintained a mellow mood -- DaVinci would surely act differently, and Skylar would need at least one level-headed relative to have a clear conversation with.
"...I won't question your choices," he said simply, referring to her decision to thank the man that raped her, though the brute did turn a pointed eye on her scoldingly. "You let your emotions get the best of you. Not everything has to have a happy ending." Story of my life. He shrugged his shoulders, knowing the girl had been born with her grandmother's twisted sense of optimism even in the darkest of times. Jefferson turned a scowl to her then, deliberate against her childish grin and content, smalltime talk. No, he didn't approve. No, he didn't see it as well as she did, but that was to be expected. "You're growing into a fool," he grumbled gruffly, forcing his sense of dire seriousness into the conversation that she was so desperately trying to avoid. Why hadn't he said more about the rape? What was there left to ask about it, anyway? What mattered was the here and now -- and pointing out her faults so that they would be learned from before it was too late. And yet, she was her father's daughter: a fool for love. Hopefully, she wouldn't turn out to be the constant, pain-in-the-ass type of fool her father was at all times.