Chapter 18: Crossed lines

Riddle remained completely still as she slowly tugged his tie loose, a dangerous smirk curving her full lips. Her eyes were soft, friendly, amused... But he knew the truth. Despite her appearance, everything from her utterly confident smugness, to the magic weighting the air... screamed 'danger'. Every instinct was telling him to shove her off of him - he hated it when people touched him - but the very businesslike way in which her right hand pointed his wand directly between his eyebrows convinced him to bide his time.

"Really, I'm surprised at how easy this was." she remarked lazily, pulling his tie loose and dropping it to pool on the floor beside the bed. "You've proved you can beat me in a direct confrontation, but it seems like when things get physical," she grinned at the innuendo, "You just... fall apart." He felt her fingernails brushing his throat as she started on his top shirt button.

He found his voice again, and he was relieved to find it sounding as cold and indifferent as ever. Like they were discussing the weather.

"What are you doing?" he asked emotionlessly.

Her fingers paused, and she briefly sucked on her bottom lip. "Hm. Immobilus."

He seethed internally as his body froze up, stuck in position. He couldn't move a muscle. From the way she chuckled, it seemed his rage was clearly visible in his eyes, though.

"Consider it a compliment," she smirked, "I'm not underestimating you again." she paused, enjoying his obvious frustration. "By the way, was that Parseltongue I heard you speaking, earlier? Very impressive. To speak to snakes... it really suits your image. I'd imagine your spirit animal is a snake." she stifled a laugh at the thought.

He kept trying to convey his intentions to painfully crush the life out of her in the near future through his eyes alone.

"Don't look at me like that. If I'm going to explain my motivations, I need you quiet and... uh... pliable."

She stared down at him with something akin to fascination.

Fascination...? That's interesting. Potentially useful... he thought hopefully.

"I was unsure how exactly to get my revenge," she continued, "After you left me in the Room. I was tempted to do the same thing to you, but I prefer originality. I also considered torture - some revenge on behalf of poor, sweet Rosier..." her nimble fingers moved lazily onto the next shirt button, her gaze fixed on the dip in his throat and his collarbone, slowly being exposed, "But it's not really my style. So I thought to myself, what is the perfect revenge for dearest Tom?"

She paused again, smiling at the sudden change in his eyes. He couldn't move a muscle, but somehow his dark eyes conveyed his feelings perfectly.

"You look like you want to say something," she noted. "Very well." she murmured a short spell to allow speech, though the rest of his body remained unmoving.

"Don't call me that." he instantly commanded, sounding cold and as in control as ever, despite the circumstances.

She pouted prettily, malice shining out of her eyes, "But Rosier gets to call you Tom when you're alone. I'm a little jealous."

"He told you."

"Of course. Why do you hate the name so much?" she said conversationally.

His throat worked, but he was hardly in a position to fight back. He was very aware of the wand still pointing between his eyes. Also, the longer she talked, the more opportunities he'd have to mess up her plans...

"Tom Marvolo Riddle... Junior." he bit out, hating her more than he ever thought possible, "That's my full name."

Her eyes lit up as she absorbed this new information, surprised he'd actually volunteered it. "... Junior? So you know who your parents were?"

"...No." he said resentfully.

"Ah." she said, nodding as if it all made sense, "You just had the name when you were dropped off at the orphanage. How old were you?"

He was already fed up with her inane questions, although it had worked as a distraction; she'd ceased her assault on his shirt.

"Okay then," she didn't seem at all phased by his silent glare. "Well, if you don't know anything about your parents, then you must have been very young. Riddle is clearly not a name from any wizarding family..."

He strained against the spell holding him down as she tried to puzzle this out, but as usual her wandwork was exemplary; there was no weakness to exploit. If left alone, the spell would probably wear off in several hours. He brought his magic to bear against it, but without his wand even non-verbal spells were of no use...

"So, you hate your name because it belonged to a Muggle? I never knew, though I suppose it's obvious."

"Shut up." he snarled. Immobilising spell or not, he was pretty sure he was trembling with rage. Obvious? It was obvious he had Muggle ancestry...?

"Oh, shhh," she hushed, stroking his head like he was a badly behaved puppy.

Kill. I'm going to kill her. This time, I'm really going to commit murder-

"I didn't mean it like that," she said emphatically, "I just meant your name is not stuck up and flashy, like Amalia, for example." she rolled her eyes. "Not Am-ee-lia, no, that would be too mainstream, it had to be Am-ah-lia. Just the way you have to shape your mouth to say it is snobbish."

He remained silent, still contemplating the various ways he would soon dismember her. And anyway, he didn't think there was anything wrong with her name. He liked... No, well... there just wasn't anything wrong with it.

"But if you're so fond of the wizarding names, why not stick with your middle name? What did you say it was? Mar-something..."

"Marvolo." he gritted out.

"Mar-vo-lo," she tried it out on her tongue. "Hm. Nope, it doesn't suit you. Sounds Italian, actually, or most probably Latin. Marvolo... It doesn't fit with Tom Riddle... so that's the magical connection in your family?"

He felt begrudgingly respect that she had figured it all out so easily. She was looking at him expectantly.

Out of nowhere, he felt a twinge of amusement beneath the rage.

"If you're waiting for me to nod, it'll be a long time." he said drily.

She chuckled. "Oh, right." she went back to fiddling with his shirt buttons, a thoughtful expression on her face, and he went back to fantasizing about dismemberment. "So," she continued at last, "I understand why you don't like your name. Marvolo is just too... much, I guess, even for you. I mean, people might shorten it to Marv," she sniggered, "That would be hilarious-"

"I am going to kill you." he deadpanned. The quiet admission just slipped out. He was completely serious, but she just waved it off dismissively.

"Don't be so dramatic. Anyway, my point is, I like the name Tom. It's short, unpretentious. It may be a common name, but I don't personally know any other Toms." she shrugged. "In the wizarding world, it's practically rare! Have you ever thought of it that way? And Riddle - there's a great name. I can't picture you being anything else." there was definite hunger in her gaze now as she pulled open the third shirt button, a faint tint of colour on her cheeks. "Merlin, Riddle." she groaned softly, taking in the planes of his chest.

He blinked at her, surprised. He'd known for a while she was attracted to him - well, he hadn't met a female his age who wasn't, to be honest, but she was being remarkably candid about it. And he'd never heard his name said in quite that way, all velvet tones as if they were lovers...

What am I thinking? She was a brat. A soon-to-be-dead brat. Dismemberment, he thought hurriedly, Blood and pain and death. Yes.

Amalia shook her head as if to clear it. "Where were we? ...Ah, yes, before I got distracted by your..." she coughed, "Ahem, name, I was talking about my revenge." she gestured between them, "I know you hate people touching you. I thought this would be perfect... You've already threatened me with death once tonight, so I'd call it a success so far." Her smile reminded him of a Cheshire cat, which brought his mind back to an important point. Since she seemed in quite a verbose mood...

"How did you get in here?" he asked, trying to piece it all together. "Obviously, you're an animagus."

"That's right." she sighed. "You're the only person who knows about it now. I didn't want to use it - it's a useful secret to have, obviously. But you forced my hand." she smirked, "That said, it was worth it just to see the expression on your face."

He ignored her last comment. "No one notices a black cat..." Riddle said slowly. "You were waiting for me?"

"That's right," she admitted. "I knew you would check your hiding place after I mentioned the tapestry."

"How did you know it was in here?"

She shrugged, "It makes sense that you'd keep your treasures nearby. It was a guess, which turned out to be a good one. By the way, Nott and Mulciber have been eating an appalling amount of chocolate for hours. And boys are disgusting - the things you guys talk about..."

"Don't compare me with them." Riddle said instinctively. He snapped his mouth shut, not sure why that had just slipped out. As if he cared.

"No," said Amalia with one eyebrow raised as if she was also surprised, scrutinizing him, "I guess you are different, aren't you?" She went back to fiddling with his fourth button. After a moment of silence, she glanced up at him teasingly, "Hey, Riddle... you're running out of buttons... I might have to start on other items of clothing."

Ugh. I have to keep her talking.

"How long have you been an animagus?"

"I started learning when I got the time-turner.' she answered pleasantly. "It's gotten me out of trouble on more than one occasion." she smirked, her hand moving lower. "Fifth button."

There was only one left.

Riddle was starting to feel more than a little uncomfortable now... he was losing control of the situation and he didn't know what her end-game was. Magic seemed out of the question. However, as much as the thought disgusted him, he knew that magic was not his only weapon.

"Hm... this is fun. How far should I go, before I stop?" she taunted, fingers pulling his shirt open further.

Taking a deep breath, he let the tension in his jaw and body flow away, no longer fighting the spell that trapped him. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, he kept his eyes half-lidded and fixed on her face.

She definitely noticed the subtle change, her smirk fading as she was momentarily taken aback by his sultry stare. "Whoah." she breathed, her cool fingertips stilling on his abdomen. His chest rose and fell, steady and even. Showing no outward sign of discomfort.

"Perhaps I don't want you to stop." he murmured seductively.

She stared at him for a long moment, before a slow grin spread over her face again.

His heart sank.

"Oh yeah?" she said, amused, "Are you sure you want to throw down that challenge?"

Well, it was the only plan he had. He pasted a smirk that oozed self-confidence on his face and looked at her up and down from his awkward position. "Take the spell off me and find out."

"Hm," she hummed appreciatively, "Nice try, but I know you hate this kind of thing. A pity, because I find it quite pleasant."

She undid the last button and pulled his shirt open at last, pushing it with relish one-handed off his left shoulder, and then his right. His skin crawled at the unwelcome touch, but there was nothing he could do. In her other hand she still held his wand; the whole time she hadn't let her guard down, not even once.

She ran her eyes over his lean, muscled chest, now completely exposed. "Just like I imagined," she teased wickedly, glancing up at his face, which was now oddly blank. "Although, you really are quite thin-" she peeked lower down, "Your ribs are showing. You should eat more. Are you ticklish?"

Very deliberately, she reached out...

"Amalia." he warned quietly, unblinking. She ignored him, though she noted he was back to calling her by her first name. It only tended to slip out when he was distracted; or in this case, seriously pissed off.

Her fingers traced a line over his chest, heading down slowly, dancing over his smooth, pale skin. Fascinated by the pattern of muscles, she followed a line of the shallow v-shape as it curved from his narrow waist, downwards, and disappeared beneath the thin material of...

"Amalia, I mean it." there was a note of urgency she'd never heard before in his voice.

But she still ignored him. What would he do if I...?

She shifted her position to sit straddling his thighs, and her hand reached his belt, slender fingers playing teasingly with the buckle...

With a muffled explosion of shattered glass and smoke, the oil lamp sitting on the desk disintegrated violently, plunging the room into semi-darkness.

Amalia gave a sharp intake of breath at the abrupt sound, and froze. Her shocked eyes flew up to meet his.

She gulped, audibly.

She couldn't help a small shiver - suddenly the temperature in the room had definitely dropped below zero in seconds. His face was shadowed in the dim light, but she could still see him staring her down with a flat, reptilian gaze, promising violence. Daring her to continue. There was the real Tom Marvolo Riddle, right there. The one that was not to be screwed with.

She slowly raised her hand away from his belt, showing him her open hand in a reconciliatory gesture. "Did I... go too far? I was just teasing you. I wouldn't actually-"

"Amalia," he said dangerously, her name sounding soft on his tongue, "Take this spell off me. Right. Now." His voice was strained, quiet... but it wasn't a request.

The oxygen in the room seemed thin. She was the one with all the power... until... suddenly she wasn't.

If intimidation had been a sport, he'd be an Olympic medalist, for sure.

"Um..." she shook her head with a nervous chuckle, "How about nope. Nope nope nope... not while you're in this mood-"

The tension holding him quiet snapped.

"Take this fucking spell OFF ME!" he raged, the last scrap of his expressionless 'I'm a perfect-schoolboy' mask well and truly shattered, ground to dust and sprinkled away into the breeze. For a moment his eyes actually flashed crimson. How was that even possible? And was it her imagination, or did his leg just twitch, fighting the immobilizing spell through sheer determination...?

Merlin's beard, he's angry, she noted in awe, even as she slid off of him to the edge of the bed, suddenly keen for some distance... Playtime was over.

He was now muttering a stream of expletives, between which she vaguely made out "kill" and "you".

"Now look," she said weakly, tugging his shirt back together apologetically, "Deep breaths, Riddle. There's no need to do something you'll regret- Like murder-"

"Why would I regret it? I won't regret it," he raved furiously, "Trust me, I'd regret nothing!" he gave a slightly unhinged-sounding laugh, and she paled. He'd lost it big-time. He was so far gone.

"-I was just having a bit of fun." she protested, biting her lip, "I didn't know you'd hate it this much, jeez..." she frowned. "You know, most guys your age would kill for-"

"I will kill you." he agreed instantly. He looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, he was glaring so murderously.

She grimaced. "Okay, I admit that was the wrong phrasing... Um, look, let's just put it behind us, shall we? Revenge finished. Clean slate."

With a wave of a wand his shirt was all done up again, no sign of the ordeal she'd just put him through, aside from the raw murder which remained burning in his eyes.

Compared to being tied up and dumped in the Room of Requirement, though, she didn't think that mere wandering hand would measure up. I mean, what is it, second base? I didn't even kiss him. Why did she feel disappointed at the missed opportunity? Tch - he should be so lucky.

But it seemed she'd chosen her revenge a little too well. Perhaps she should have seen it coming; this was the guy who looked physically pained whenever people used his first name without permission. Control was everything to him.

Well, there was no sign of that control now.

"Let's discuss this like rational-"

"You're dead," he hissed, and this time there was a definite twitch in his hand, as if his fingers were itching to flex around her throat. The spell was coming undone quicker than anticipated.

"Ah... well, that's a... problem." she mused, wincing. If he was serious, then her life was really in danger. As soon as she released him, he'd commit murder on the spot - she saw the truth of it in his eyes. "You can't really kill me, remember?" she spoke slowly, as if to someone hard of hearing, "Do you want to be expelled? No, you don't. Of course not. So you can't-"

She yelped and ducked as a heavy arithmancy book suddenly soared off a bookshelf and narrowly missed her head.

"Wow, wandless telekinesis," she said weakly, carding her free hand through her hair to smooth it down, "That's, um... pretty amazing..."

Riddle made an odd hissing sound. It sounded rude.

She gaped at him.

"Did you just..." she blinked disbelievingly, "...swear at me... in Parseltongue?"

Instead of replying, he tensed, and she saw cords in his throat stand out as he fought the spell. And it was working - he was beginning to get movement back in his upper body.

A creepy wind had also whipped up, making the velvet drapes hanging from the beds snap and the wooden furniture creak ominously like a sinking ship. Shadows elongated and writhed across the floor eerily.

"Um..." she gulped, looking around with academic curiosity. A Muggle would run screaming about "possession", but it was just directionless magic, generally not dangerous but very unpredictable.

"Oh, shit." she sighed, thinking quickly. She could just recast the spell- or better yet, knock him out entirely and make a run for it- but that wouldn't solve the problem. He'd still find a way to murder her eventually. And while many unknown assailants had tried to get to her in the past, he was different. If he put his mind to destroying her... he might actually succeed.

"Fine." she got off the bed and backed away several paces, so he was out of lunging distance. "Stop- I'll undo the spell before you injure yourself." she bit her lip. "... Finite."

He instantly lurched to his feet, breathing heavily and giving her the evil eye. He drew himself up to his full height, straightening his shirt unnecessarily. He wasn't much taller than her, but she felt intimidated all the same.

I'm the one with the wand, she reminded herself. I'm the one in control. Killing me would be detrimental to us both... he's just temporarily forgotten that. She was suddenly reminded of Riddle's three methods of dealing with problems: one, Memory Charm, two: torture, and three: mysterious disappearance. Clearly the third was on the agenda.

So, how did she deal with this? She was the one with a wand, and there were several spells that sprung to mind which would make this all go away (most of which were illegal). But using magic to force her will on someone was not really her style. She'd rather talk him down from this, before resorting to more... drastic measures.

"Give me my wand, Gray." he snapped, still looking livid. But he was back to calling her by her surname. Perhaps being vertical was helping him focus.

"Not happening." she refused. "Uh-uh," she said warningly, as he took a threatening step towards her. "Stay right there."

He paused, obsidian eyes watching her carefully. She kept his wand firmly pointed at his chest, ready at a moment's notice to defend herself.

There was a tense silence as they sized each other up.

Amalia waited. "Have you calmed down a bit?" she tentatively asked after about a minute of the stand-off.

"Why don't you give me back my wand and find out?" Riddle snarled.

"I'll take that as a 'no'." she sighed. "Look, I was trying to piss you off. I obviously succeeded. But this is what we do, isn't it? It's our thing. I know you usually resort to violence when you're angry, but perhaps this is a good opportunity to turn your life around," she said earnestly, "No killing has to take place; we can part as amicable-"

"I won't kill you, Gray." he said with a smile that showed entirely too many teeth, "I'm going to rip out your insides and feed them to you. And you'll be on fire. And there'll be sharp objects involved. You'll beg for death before the end, and I'll-"

"I get the message." she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. Now he was just being melodramatic. "And when Dumbledore finds my mangled corpse?" she prompted. "What then?"

His eyes sparkled with savagery, "There won't be enough of you left for identification."

"Seems like you have it all figured out." she said drily.

"I do." he was still completely serious.

"This is not like you, Riddle," she reasoned, "You're being all up-front and honest about your evil plans."

He suddenly fell silent, as if belatedly remembering that he usually kept these kinds of thoughts to himself.

"I don't mind," she continued, scratching the back of her neck with her free hand. "I like it when you're honest. But... Did I really do something so unforgivable? You've done worse. Hell, so have I." They both threw Dark magic around casually all the time, and some of the things she'd had to do while she was in Knockturn... Well, she was a selfish person. Her survival (or... entertainment, in this case) was always going to come first.

She continued, "Usually, I'd suggest we duel it out, but with Dumbledore sniffing about... We really shouldn't."

He merely stared at her, and a fierce headache started up in her temples all of a sudden.

"Ahh! Dammit, Riddle! Are you trying to use Legilimency on me again?!" she cursed, blinking spots from her vision. It was possible to ignore - he was doing it without a wand - but it was annoying as hell.

He smirked humourlessly, forehead scrunched in concentration. "My wand. Give it back."

"Ugh! Fine!" she held up a hand in defeat, and the headache slowly eased. "Just... wait. I'm getting mine first." She swore quietly, and then said, "Accio wand!" enunciating clearly. She edged her way to the dormitory door and muttered a counter-spell to Riddle's locking charm, keeping an eye on him the whole time. He watched her just as closely, like a shark scenting blood in the water.

She waited by the door, until her wand came soaring through the opening; she caught it deftly in one hand. She wondered if any other students in the Common Room had witnessed the wand floating by. It seemed quiet, though. It wasn't that late yet, there was still just under an hour until supper. She shut the door and sealed it again, adding a Silencing Charm just in case things went pear-shaped.

It felt better to have her own wand back; it was slightly warm to the touch, as if happy. Or perhaps just because her palms were sweating.

"I don't want to fight, okay? It would be a bad idea."

He licked his lips, gaze darting between his wand and her face. "Why? I think it's a good idea. Do it. Give it back. Now."

He sounded way too eager. Like the next thing out of his mouth was going to be the Killing Curse.

When she hesitated, he strode forward impatiently.

"Protego!" she immediately said, a transparent blue shield springing into existence between them. He was actually forced back a step or two. "Not so fast." she said, eyes narrowed. "I'm just about sick of your shit, Riddle."

He gaped at her. "What?"

"Who gives you the right to throw a tantrum at every little thing?" she exclaimed, stamping her foot. "Yeah, so what if I had a little fun. Pissed you off. Now you're going to murder me? A bit much, don't you think?"

"You don't know your place, Gray," he sneered icily, "I'm going to enjoy teaching it to you."

She held up her hands with an unimpressed scowl. "Okay, wow. My place? Stop right there, Junior."

"What did you just call me?!" he demanded furiously.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Shit. The name thing. Right, I'm just making this worse."

"Give me my wand, then we'll talk," he tried bargaining, but the angry tremor in his hands was a clear warning of imminent violence.

"Nope, we're talking first. Are you going to listen?"

He glared.

"We can stay here all night."

"..."

"Riddle!"

"... Fine. I'm listening." he said resentfully.

She took a deep breath. "Now, I know you're upset. I was too, after you tied me up in the Room. But I got my revenge, made you squirm a bit. So, we're even."

"We're nowhere near even." he vowed coldly.

"You started this... war of attrition," she pointed out.

"I did not!"

"Did too. Don't you remember? The first day of class, you grabbed my wrist and nearly broke it - it was really painful!"

He blinked, taking a moment to remember. "Then... you stepped on my foot." he said slowly. "That... was the start?"

She nodded. "Yup. It's been a vicious circle of revenge ever since."

"Huh." he looked confused, like he'd never thought of it that way. He shook his head. "Well... this is different. You overstepped the line, Gray-"

"You tortured Rosier for no reason!" she retorted angrily, "Are you really telling me that now there's a line?"

He didn't really have an answer for that. It... was actually a valid point.

"Do I have to list what happened each time we've dueled?" she continued, "It hasn't been good!" She started pacing, careful to keep a safe distance, with the barrier between them. "Riddle - the first time we dueled, we both turned the lawns into a moon landscape, and Dumbledore got suspicious. The second time, you almost died! Do I need to remind you what happened the last time?"

"You lost." he snapped bad-temperedly.

"Fine, I lost!" she admitted, "And then you tortured Rosier, and Dumbledore actually walked in on us just before we had a stab at Duel Number Four. I'm saying we should have a ceasefire... at least until after Christmas, when these detentions with Dumbledore are done. We can't afford another slip-up. You can't afford a slip-up."

For the first time, he actually seemed like he was thinking about what she was saying.

She decided to pull out her piece de resistance: "Can you... postpone... my murder?"

His eyebrows flew up. "... Postpone?"

She nodded, relieved to see him express an emotion other than anger at last. "Until after Christmas. After these detentions with Dumbledore - We can have a duel in January." she invented wildly, "What about the first weekend back at school? We can plan it - make alibis so the winner isn't a suspect, um... go into the Forbidden Forest." She swallowed, suddenly serious. "We can keep going until only the victor remains. Once and for all."

"...One winner?" he mused slowly.

She nodded cautiously. "If that's how you want it." She was very aware suddenly that she was actually serious about killing him. Because her survival always came first. And he was good at fighting, but... If she was fighting to kill, she would make sure she won. He would die, by her hand. Would anyone mourn his passing? Dumbledore would probably give me house-points if he suspected me, she thought bitterly. Just slaying the Hogwarts monster. For some reason, it sent a pang through her chest.

Riddle seemed to have no such thoughts. He nodded slowly, his expression brightening. "That sounds... agreeable."

At least she seemed out of danger for the moment. "Great. Then there's one more thing we need to sort out."

His eyes flew to hers again. "The tapestry."

"Yes." she waved her wand and caught it awkwardly, trying not to drop Riddle's wand in the process.

His brows knitted, "You're taking it?"

She hesitated. "I was going to, but perhaps that's not a good first step in the ceasefire... Any suggestions?"

"Give it back. I found it first."

"Ugh, you're such an asshole." she complained. "I'll tell you what. This is going in the Common Room, where both of us and everyone else can see the damn thing. How's that?"

"You actually going to put it in the Common Room?"

She nodded stubbornly. "Permanent Sticking Charm, on whichever wall is available."

He rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand. "Do what you like. Wand?"

Amalia hesitated, fiddling nervously with his wand. "Okay then. Um... here." she dissolved the barrier, steeled herself, stepped forward, and offered him his wand back.

He reached out and took it smoothly.

She stared at him apprehensively, holding her own wand ready, half-raised beside her.

He narrowed his eyes at her, and for a moment he seemed strongly tempted to start their fourth (probably ill-fated) duel. But the moment passed, and he let out a deep breath.

"I can have patience until January." he shrugged, putting his wand away in his pocket. He turned away from her as if he couldn't stand the sight of her a moment longer.

Her heart sank. She didn't want to duel him to the death...

"Let's go," she muttered, her voice subdued, "We're probably late for supper."

"Mm." he grunted and stalked out.

I have until Christmas to change his mind.

Author's note:

Their relationship has taken a giant step back, I'm afraid. However, it was necessary. Amalia's character is feisty and she's used to getting what she wants, while Tom's character is controlling and driven by anger. It was inevitable that they'd end up opposing each other.

Also, any thoughts as to why Tom reacted so strongly when she was being all... handsy? He hates being touched, but... Methinks the boy doth protest too much.

As great as I-hate-you sexual tension is, they're not going to stay on opposing sides forever. Because seriously, the chemistry is undeniable. I don't know if you agree, but I sometimes get an old-married-couple kind of vibe from them when they argue... Especially when Amalia's stamping her foot and refusing to take his shit.