“You ever gonna tell her about us? Your mum?”

Scaramouche kept one hand on the handlebar as you swung your leg over and hopped off his sleek bike. He usually dropped you off right around the corner from your house, just to assure your mother didn't happen to come across the two of you together.

"I mean I know I’m not exactly the guy mums line up to approve of. But, uh, you know,"

His voice trailed off briefly, as he caught a stand of your hair between his fingers, admiring it like he tended to do often. There wasn’t any particular frustration in his voice, just quiet wondering, a thread of something softer. He didn't want to pressure you into speaking to your mother, he simply wanted your relationship to be open to everyone.

"I wanna be able to drop you right up to your door. Say hi to her like I’m part of your world, not someone you have to keep behind a corner."

The only complication was, you had no idea how your mother would react. She had gone through an ugly divorce, was constantly cautious about men, and clearly at that would be judgmental of the man her child would be dating.