Meet the Lakes

“How do I look?”
Louise looked Damien up and down. “You look good, sweetie. How do you feel?”
“Nervous. Weird.” He fiddled with the collar of the sweater-vest, “Kind of itchy.”
“You don't have to do this, you know. I hadn't talked to my parents in months before arranging this.” She hugged him as she talked.
“I want to. It's only proper, right?” He squeezed her gently before stepping to one side to look into the mirror again, “My hair's okay, right?”
“Your hair doesn't move.”
“Is that a yes?”
She planted a kiss on the nose of his worried face, “You look fine, sweetie.” He responded with a vague noise of worry, “It's just my parents. You've faced down worse hazards.” She led him out of the room.
“I was armed all those times...” He lamented as he followed her.

“I'm still not sure we should have taken the bike.” He said as he dismounted and stowed their helmets, “It gives off the wrong impression.”
“Please stop worrying.” She took his hand in both of hers, “Worst case scenario, they hate you and disown me.”
As Louise marched up the garden path to the front door of the suburban house, Damien cast a glance up and down the street. That amount of white picket was frankly frightening, and not a blade of grass seemed to come taller than three inches. Upon seeing Louise waiting at the door, he hurried to her side. Louise rang the bell and waited. The door was opened in short order by a short woman with brown hair, beginning to go gray at the temples, drawn back into a large and elegant bun.
“Mom, I'd like you to meet Damien Allen.” Louise indicated her boyfriend with both hands.
Damien offered a hand, which Mrs Lake took and used to pull herself towards him and kiss his cheeks, “A pleasure to meet you, darling.”
“And you too, Mrs Lake.” Damien smiled as Louise's mother ushered them in.
“I was so glad when Louise told me you'd insisted on meeting us.” She squeezed his shoulder in her hand, “Such a proper gentleman.”
“Well, I'm kind of a traditionalist.” Damien had no idea if this was actually an accurate statement but it gave him something to say while Mrs Lake led them into the dining room.
The face that greeted them, worn and wrinkled and vaguely angry about the world around it, was set on a body built sturdy and tall and looming over the table sharpening a carving knife.
“This is my husband, John.”
“Damien Allen. A pleasure to meet you, Mr Lake.” Damien offered his hand over the table. Mr Lake eyed it and its owner as he slowly put down the knife and reached to grip it. As handshakes went, this one was like Fort Knox. Firm, American, and completely motionless.
“A pleasure.” He said in a voice that sounded like it had never come anywhere near pleasure. Both hands eagerly withdrew from the handshake and Mr Lake's eyes turned to his daughter, “Good to see you again, Louise.” He added in an equally stony voice.
“Admiral.” She answered with a nod.
“Yes, Damien, we're very pleased you convinced our Lou-Lou to come see us. She's been ever so distant since she started that college course.” Mrs Lake's face was cheery as she sat down beside her husband.
'Alright,' thought Damien, 'Maybe this won't go so badly after all.'

“No daughter of mine is going to waste her time running around after some thug in a suit of armour!” The admiral thumped the tabletop with his palm.
“He's a superhero, dad!” Louise responded twice in kind, standing up violently.
“He wouldn't have cut muster as a sidekick back in my day! Look at the superheroes we have now, that devil girl, the guy in the hood, superhero doesn't mean jack any more!”
“Honey, please-” Mrs Lake attempted.
“Not only is he a superhero, dad, he's a great one!” Louise pressed.
“I don't know abou-”
“AND, I'm going to be his sidekick!” She leaned ferociously over the table, so her scowl was inches from her dad's.
“WHAT?!” He recoiled back in abject disappointment.
“Come on, Cavalier.” She took her boyfriend by the wrist, “Lets go ride your bike home and then spend some time alone together.” She said this with her eyes fixed squarely and with malice aforethought on her father.
“It was a pleasure meeting you both.” He said as he was dragged out of the room.
“And you, Damien.” Mrs Lake answered, sinking into her seat.
His head returned from around the doorframe, “The chicken was divine, Mrs Lake.”, and then was quickly pulled back out.

“I am really sorry about that.” He said as they walked down the path to his bike.
“It's fine. It wasn't your fault.”
“He sure made me feel like it was...”
Louise pulled her boyfriend into a hug as they reached the bike, “That's been a long while due. It's good that it's over with. Thank you for putting up with it.”
“No problem.” He smiled as they mounted the bike together.
“Also I think you dad might be kind of racist.”