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She wore a smile, but the predatory gaze of her grey eyes made his palms sweat. “We just want to get to know the boy who’s dating our daughter,” Sabine said innocently. She joined her husband, her small hands wrapping around his thick arm. Marinette quickly planted herself between her father and Luka. “Papa,” Marinette’s voice cut in, her normal lavender tone twinged with yellow-green annoyance. ”I’m Tom Dupain, Marinette’s father.” Luka pretended not to be intimated by M. He wiped his hands off on his apron before he took Luka’s hand. His regulars at the store insisted he called them by their first names minus the honorifics, and whenever his father decided to talk to him, Luka only used his father’s name. “Sabine.” Luka was no stranger to calling adults by their names.

“Sabine,” she corrected with a playful smile on her lips. “You must be Luka,” Mme Cheng stuck out her hand. He hoped they didn’t look at his shaking hands. “Good evening,” Luka greeted, a confident smile on his lips. Dupain, who was busy tidying the baking area behind the register. As his eyes trailed the displays, he finally spotted M. Small tags gave away what used to be in the small trays: croissants, éclairs, macarons, cakes. The displays had been emptied after a busy day, but a few crumbs remained. He was immediately greeted by the sweet scent of sugary desserts and sweet bread. “You’re just in time!” Mme Cheng said as she ushered Luka inside. From the other side of the tinted glass, she smiled and quickly opened the door. When he arrived at the patisserie, Mme Cheng was just turning over the sign from OPEN to CLOSE. Luke took the Métro as the sun began to paint the late evening sky in oranges and reds. Plus, he thought Marinette would like it it’s her favorite color.

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The box was a last minute gift-something he wasn’t sure about giving Marinette, but Luka only knew how to love in its present form. On his way out, Luka grabbed his worn leather wallet, keys, a borrowed leather jacket, and a tiny velvet box from its place atop the kitchen counter. Luka kissed his mother and Juleka goodbye. “I promise I’ll be back before midnight.” His shift at the music store wasn’t until three the next day, and Marinette’s weekend just started but he knew there would probably be a curfew. “Have fun tonight, and try not to be out too late.” Her voice transitioned back into its maritime tone. “You look handsome, Luka,” she said, her ‘Captain’ voice replaced with her ‘Mom’ voice. He didn’t notice he tie it wrong or that it was askew. His mother got up from her spot beside Juleka and fixed his tie. He wore his loud high-tops and hoped he would still leave a good impression on Marinette’s parents. The button-up fit his torso snuggly unlike his Jagged Stone shirt, and he didn’t own a nice pair of shoes. “It’s not too much, is it?” He asked them. “Lookin’ ship-shape, Luka!” His mother laughed, her accent thick and happiness thicker.

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When he exited the bathroom, his mother and Juleka were on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them and an old horror movie on their small television set. He applied eyeliner earlier that made his aqua eyes pop. He wore his nicer jeans: a blue dark wash with no rips or holes. His white Jagged Stone shirt and denim jacket had been replaced with a black short sleeve button-up and a tie that matched his dip-dyed tips.

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