Sounds of laser guns and cheesy sound effects emit from a dimly lit game room. Somewhere near the front of the house, a door opens and closes. Yet, these sounds do not disrupt the teen as he attempts, and fails, to destroy the alien zombies on screen. Large letters reading YOU DIED flashes across the screen and the boy curses. Yawing, the boy hauls himself to his feet deserting his game in search of food. The sleepy American freezes upon entering the kitchen. It takes him a moment to realize the man rummaging through his fridge is his brother.
"You're home early, Matt." The statement is an obvious one. Without request, the Canadian pushes a nearly empty pizza box towards Alfred.
"There wasn't much to finish up today. They let me go early," Matthew shrugs, grumbling in a twisted version of French as he can't seem to find what he's looking for. "Did you eat my maple candies?" Matthew looks back at his brother, who instantly adverts his eyes and turns a guilty shade of red.
"They weren't as good as I thought, honestly." Alfred admits. Matt gawfs, shaking his head in disbelief.
"That was the last of my stash. If I want any decent maple candy, I have to go back to Canada. You ate them all, Alfred. And then you go and say they weren't good?" Alfred grins, catching the playful glint in his brother's eyes.
"Do I feel a challenge coming on?" Alfred let's his teeth sink into the crust of the pepperoni pizza in his hand.
"Mario kart. You lose you have to get me good maple candy, not that New England shit. I lose, I'll... I'll get Ivan to go on a date with you." Obviously flustered by his brother's statement, Alfred simply nods.
"You're on."
"I don't think it'll be too hard. I mean, it's you." The brothers laugh, Matthew following Alfred into the game room.
"Don't underestimate me. I'm a seasoned pro."
"Yea, a seasoned procrastinator."