Second best tastes as strong and unpleasant as cloves. He gags and tries to cough it up only to have it shoved down his throat again.
Don Paolo hates it but mostly he hates Layton.
If Don Paolo is always second (and he is) then Layton is running first.
At the science fair in middle school Don Paolo's cloning device lost to the budding' professor's volcano model. "Your project was nice but too complicated to comprehend." They had said, excusing their stupidity.
In sports Hershel always unaware without fail ran into him, knocking him in the dirt, open to being trampled on. His papers were under footprints like his back ended up. Once Layton turned a essay in, suddenly Don Paolo's paper was rubbish.
His only consolence, their only stance as equals were their receding hairlines. The man proclaimed the top hat was for aesthetic purposes, one of the marks of a gentleman but Don Paolo was sure Layton was at the very least balding. Why else would he always be seen in public wearing such a ridiculous thing?
Don Paolo was smart enough to not hide his baldness under ridiculous comb overs, hair plugs, or hats. He preferred growing out what hair he had left to monstrous lengths and styling it dramatically- it drew the eye away from the bald spot.
"You've foiled everything for me for the last time." The vengeful, mustached man muttered, finger pointed at the most pronounced button of his remote control. He pushed the button and waited, then growing, seeing his invention had simply grazed the professor. That however was the least of his aggravation.
"Something knocked my hat over, how odd. . ." Layton bent over to pick it up, showing off a full head of thick amber hair.
First, Don Paolo imploded, his entire, hopeful image of Layton blown away like his top hat. Then, a howl exploded, echoing through the forest and disturbing the birds into flight.
"Did you hear something, Luke?"