Oliver opened his mouth when Viola protested staying, ready to make it clear it was not something open to discussion, but her own body made the argument for him. He stepped forward on instinct, but she managed to right herself before he was needed to steady her, and he let the hand that had gone out toward her fall again to his side.
And so Viola complied, after adjusting her dress -- if it could qualify as a dress, Oliver thought bitterly, and made a note to complain to Liz later about their daughter's idea of appropriate clothing. Surely that was something more within a mother's purview.
He watched, unsettled, as his daughter made her way to the bedroom. "Viola," he called out before she had reached the door, unwilling to leave things just as they were. There was a moment of hesitation, but his words were clear, if quiet. "I love you, you know. This doesn't change that."