"Hmm-mmhm," he hums. "It was a Black family house after all, and my mother was a Black." His eyes dart to her, and smiles a little nostalgically as he speaks, "Mother used to take me over for tea, in this very room. It was positively dreadful. My grandmother would leer over the table at me, call me sweet cheeks, of all things. God, I hated it, but my mother still insisted on taking me. She grew up in this house, and I guess she wanted me to see it." He looks at the ground, and his voice is quiet, "I don't know what she wanted."