The neighborhood was nice. Real nice. The kind of neighborhood he'd dreamed of being in once, a long, long time ago, before the reality of his place in the world settled heavily on his shoulders. It wasn't the kind of neighborhood a man like him belonged in. And it wasn't the kind of neighborhood he'd expected anyone from Hillingdon to live in, either. But it was her Grandma's place, so maybe it wasn't hers so much as it was what she'd been given. Which made it all the sadder, really. She had an opportunity to have so many nicer things, standing there in a whitewashed house and she was spending time with the likes of him.

He knew she didn't think of Hillingdon of a joke. She'd been there too long. Become too much a part of the loose family for him to believe that. But it sure felt like one as he slowly followed her up the walkway.

"I don't have to come in if it'll be a problem," he grunted, accent thickening in his awkwardness.