That made sense. With all the times he'd told Cathy never to take anyone's crap, especially his, if he had a kid, he probably would have told her that too. The apathy towards the human race was probably tempered down by Cathy's empathy towards it. As different as the two of them were, those differences created a fairly even balance when they met in the middle.
He hesitated, the question in his daughter's tone pushing into territory he wasn't very familiar with. Lindsey looked down at the table, choosing his words carefully. "You do just fine," he said after a moment, holding up a hand. "If you stand up for yourself, that's all anyone should ask of you." He picked up his glass, taking a drink before continuing. "Live for who you are. Never apologize. Never try to please others because you think that's what they want."
He set the glass down, clasping his hands in front of his mouth. "No. They do it to themselves by deciding it was the right thing to say in the first place." Every parenting book in existance probably warned against having discussions like this. Not that he cared. He wasn't about to sugarcoat it.