After years and years of getting up early, for work and school and Chuck and everything in between, Clive didn't really sleep in anymore. Sure, there were mornings when he could have gotten away with it, today being one of them, but his body's clock just didn't work like that anymore. Not long after sunrise he was up, coffee was made, and he was getting a quick workout in before he made breakfast. Chuck wasn't home - he was out with his friends for the night, and he'd called to say he was staying over with one of his buddies. Again, Clive didn't mind, his son had a good head on his shoulders. Probably got that from Regina more so than him.
He was well into his workout before he heard the knock on the door. Not just any knock, but a steady beating, much like he was doing to the punching bag in the corner of his bedroom. He didn't bother to clean up, just grabbed a towel on his way to the door, still in the same shorts and tank he'd worn to bed, tattoos and all on display. He doubted it was Chuck, who would have just let himself in and called up to him, and his mother or his uncle would have called ahead first.
One look through the peephole had him pulling open the door in a instant. "Regina?" he asked, able to see the worry and concern on her face. Something was wrong, and he had no idea what. "Baby, are you okay? Come in, come in." Whatever it was, they weren't having that conversation on his front porch.