Scorpius followed after. He'd seen the flash of her name.
"I'm twenty-four," he said with a touch of smugness. He had four and a half years on Mum. More than he had on his father.
He stopped before the porch steps. There it was, her bungalow. The name was on the door. She would probably want to explore and let it all sink in by herself. "Well, it's– good and wonky to know you're here," Scorpius told her, carding a hand through his hair. "Go to the bedroom. The luggage will drop and leave you alone. You'll also find your new job and a key. It opens a piece of baggage."
There. She should be well-oriented.
"And.." Scorpius hesitated, "for future reference, I live in the first bungalow."