Sam followed Jesse inside, busily looking round. Even just main entryway bespoke of fair wealth, and Sam swallowed harshly as he took off his coat and such. It was stupid, obviously, because Jesse was one of the nicest blokes Sam had ever met, but he always got nervous around the upper and upper-middle classes. He always knew he didn't fit in, and his lingering childhood insecurities might be ridiculous, but that didn't make them any less powerful.
His feet moved when he was prodded, and he glanced about as he walked the main corridor. Where his family had had aging, sagging furniture, Jesse's had modern, clean, and probably professionally chosen pieces. Where the Wests had had family snapshots and a cheap print or two, the Ventures had what looked to be real artwork on the walls. While the Wests' kitchen had been tiny, cluttered, and dark, this kitchen was incredibly spacious and light, with clean, sleek appliances. Neither appeared less used than the other, and Sam couldn't help but note that Mrs Venture's cooking smelled just as good as his mum's.
He felt more awkward than ever at his lack of a hostess gift. He really should have scraped some money together for some flowers, at the very least.
"Yes, ma'am," he said after Jesse's more casual confirmation. He offered his (empty) hand. "Thank you very much for the dinner invitation, Mrs Venture. I hope Jesse didn't push too hard for it." He tried a wry, self-deprecating grin, and absolutely refused to call Jesse's mum by her first name. Too weird by half.