Robby does stand, once he sees the arms open, pressing a hand on the table to keep his balance. It's not that wobbly, it just--feels weird. His feet do that sometime, but it makes it easier for him to tip himself into the hug and the wall of his dad's body, letting his head slump nicely on his shoulder. Because he wants to, and he wants to show--and he wants to know--that Mister LaRusso's okay with this, after everything that's been said. Confessed to. Admitted.

That it's okay that he's Robby's dad. That it's okay he does this, and has this.

He'll need to talk to his other dad about this later, too, but that's a conversation (and consideration) for another time. For now, Robby smiles to himself as he feels the touch to his head, raises an arm to settle it around his dad's side, hand somewhere on his back. Being greedy, taking more than he's giving, but his dad's got better hugs to give right now than him.

Which is why he's not moving away, or giving any impression that he intends to, even while he answers his dad's question.

"I've got everything in my room. I wanna take it and do it in the dojo--a lot started for us in dojos."

His voice hums with an amusement with those last words, fond from his throat. They're comforting to him, especially Miyagi-do dojos: like a place of shelter he can go to when he needs it there. One turned into a home for him, all turned into a purpose. A place that helped to offer him balance.

But he would always need to be the one to find in--in his life, and in himself.

And this seemed like a good start to getting back on that path.