Peeling Oranges
Arthur Kirkland is very diligent in keeping his fingernails trimmed; he does to the point where there almost isn't any nail sticking out. If asked why, he would probably answer something along the lines of "I need them short for guitar, you git." That isn't the only reason: Arthur had a borderline obsessive habit of trimming his nails. It bothers him to see girls with inch-long fingernails, painted with all colors of the rainbow. Completely weird. It just seems so... unkempt.
Of course, this lead to one major problem: oranges.
Arthur's mother is very insistent on him getting his daily fruits and vegetables. Every morning, as Arthur heads out the door, a bag filled with containers of assorted fruits and vegetables would be practically shoved into his face. This usually results in complaints from Arthur ("I'm seventeen, for God's sake, mum! Stop making my lunch!") and a roll of the eyes from his mom as she shoves him towards his car.
In this bag is, among other things, an orange. Arthur enjoys himself a good orange, like any other sane person, and as such this is one of the few things he doesn't complain about. His mom usually buys Cuties, though, so Arthur can open them.
She bought regular oranges the last time she went to the store.
"Dammit!" Arthur whispers as he desperately tries to open his orange. He's currently in math class. The teacher's going over something boring: some sort of trig identities, he thinks. Arthur's not really paying attention to it right now. All that matters is getting his orange open, even if it kills him.
"Pssst! Hey! Bro!" Alfred whispers loudly to him. Arthur got stuck next to this idiot because of the seating chart. Alfred probably hasn't taken any notes either and is asking to copy his later. Stupid.
"What?" Arthur hisses at the moron to his right.
"Gimme some of your orange!" Alfred grins that stupid grin of his.
"No! It's my orange and I need it now!" Unintentional references aside, it's not like Arthur's going to get any of the orange either. At this rate, he won't ever get the orange open, and then he'll be even grumpier than he usually is in the afternoon. No one wants that.
"Dude, you can't even get it open."
Thank you, Captain Obvious. No, Arthur hasn't been trying to open this damn orange for the past twenty minutes. Go talk to Sergeant Sarcasm or die in a crockpot. Up to you.
"You have to take your time with these, otherwise the juice gets everywhere," Arthur said matter-of-factly.
"BS, man. Gimme the orange and I'll open it." Alfred stuck out his hand.
"No! You have germs." Arthur was basically bluffing at this point. If he gave Alfred the orange Alfred would win, and Arthur most certainly did not want him to win.
"So do you," Alfred pointed out, snatching the orange off of Arthur's desk. Arthur made a noise of protest, but Alfred had already opened the orange before he could react and set it down on the desk.
"There ya go, bro! Wasn't that hard," Alfred grins like an idiot.
"Thank you," Arthur manages to force out grudgingly. Be a gentleman, Arthur. A gentleman is always polite and thanks people.
Doesn't mean one can't curse the offending party out in one's head, though, which Arthur does for the rest of math as he silently eats his orange. This is probably the only thing he'd care to have long nails for. Stupid orange.