Belle waited until after breakfast to tell her father what she had told her mother, about Frollo. Even though she kept reminding herself that he was her father and she didn’t need to be nervous about telling him anything, she felt nervous even so. It just felt awkward talking to her father about something so intimate.
“It has to be done,” she muttered to herself, before approaching him. He was standing over par the bow of the ship. “Papa, can we talk?”
Clayton smiled. “Of course, sweetie.” Then, he noticed the look on her face. “Belle, what’s wrong?”