Amelda knew that he should have stayed in bed when Varon came prancing into the kitchen on that fine Wednesday morning, waving his arms frantically and screaming, "WE'RE ALL SCREWED!" on the top of his lungs.
He frowned. They were NOT all screwed. He himself was still a virgin and was perfectly sure that Raphael was straight. Grabbing the spasmodic brunette by one of his armor pads, Amelda pulled him to the side and whacked his head for a good measure. "You're an idiot," he stated flatly.
Varon retaliated by sticking out his tongue. "Am not."
"Am too."
"Am not."
"Am too."
"Am not."
"Am not."
"Am too…dammit."
Amelda stepped back, placing both hands on his hips and flashing a smug smirk. It took a few seconds for Varon to realize his screw-up. He slapped his forehead. How could he fall for the classical fast-talk mix-up? That was practically grade school!
"Amelda…I hate you," he muttered. "Hate. Hate. Hate."
The older boy quirked an eyebrow. "Hate me because I'm smarter than you?"
An indignant sputter. "You are NOT smarter than me!"
"Oh, is that so? Then solve this math problem."
"What are you talking about—?"
Varon was cut off as two gloved fingers were held up directly in front of his face. He blinked. He stole a glance at Amelda; his expression was as cold as ever.
"My fingers mark the parabola called B," Amelda began solemnly. "The floor lamp next to me is going to be assumed as seven feet tall. Calculate the specific features keeping these bits of information in mind and deduce the range, assuming a consistent speed for my hand upon any other air ratio interference of dust and wind within the arc that takes the flight from the movements of my fingers to the lamp."
"…"
"In simple words—tell me how long it'll take for me to turn on the light. You have ten seconds."
Varon was out of his sight in a flash.
The gray-eyed boy heard a distant shout, a small scuffle, a thump, and then saw Raphael shoved out of his own bedroom with his Guardian cards in his grasp by no other than Varon.
He watched painfully as said Varon unwillingly pushed the older man down the hallway, the bottom of his boots scraping the floor in what had to be the highest and most annoying screech he had ever heard in his lifetime. Amelda winced, wishing he had a pair of earplugs at hand.
With a final push, Raphael was standing face to face with the redhead. He blinked for a few times, wondering if the reason for him being shanghaied from his own room was because Amelda got a face-lift and that Varon was excited to show him his new…face or something. Coming to the conclusion that was pure crap, Raphael stiffly turned around and glowered at the brunette. "What do you want me to do with him?"
"He tricked me and made me look like a fool!" Varon snapped his fingers impatiently at Amelda. "Tell him the equation!"
"Sure thing," Amelda ignored the confused look he was getting from the blonde and held out his fingers again. "My fingers mark the parabola called B," he began slowly, hoping Raphael would catch on. "The floor lamp next to me is…"
Behind them, Varon had his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. That'll teach the red-headed nimrod not to make a fool out of him, he thought loftily. After all, there was no way in the seven Hells that Raphael could—
"—twenty-four and three-quarters of a minute."
For the second time that day, Varon's jaw dropped.
"Is that right? Unless you want it in seconds…"
Amelda beamed. "No, it's good."
Varon's jaw dropped even further. "How did you DO that?" he cried. Raphael merely blinked and frowned.
"Well, all you need to do is to hypothesize under very uncertain trigonometrically-measured conditions and then apply the laws of kinetics to whatever you come up with." He shrugged. "It's not that hard."
…NOT THAT HARD?
"But—that—him—" he sputtered indignantly. Coming to a quick conclusion, the brunette spun around to face Amelda, who, mind you, was looking awfully more cheerful than usual which didn't please him the very least. Varon pointed an indignant finger in his face. "You framed me!"
He smirked. "Puh-lease, Varon. Nobody in the right mind would paint a picture of you and hang it up on a wall with a $500 Montgomery border." Amelda leaned forward and playfully flicked the top of Varon's nose. "You. Aren't. Worth it."
By now, Varon was just in the right mind to take a fork and stab the boy in front of him repeatedly over and over again. Luckily for Amelda though, the brunette couldn't do such a thing in Raphael's presence.
"Fine, BE THAT WAY," he huffed crossly. Varon paused for a moment before glaring at the redhead again. "I know you set me up to make me look stupid! I mean, Raph knowing math is one thing, because he's smart" —Raphael flashed a grateful smile— "but if you go to any other NORMAL person and ask them all that number-hodgepodge-mishmash, they won't be able to…to…conduct the first variable!" he finished off pompously.
Amelda had a hard time keeping the smile off his face. Hodgepodge mishmash? Gods, he was such a child.
"Alright, Varon," he replied in an amused tone. "Just bring any other…normal" —he air finger quoted— "person to me and let's see if you're theory of being 'set up' by me still stands firm after my next math problem."
Seeing his guiltless expression, Varon's eyebrow twitched. He leaned forwards and grasped the collar of his trench-coat and pulled Amelda towards him until there noses were touching. Blue clashed with gray.
"I hate you. HATE…HATE…HATE…"
"…hate…hate…hate…"
"Wonderful. That was my goal, anyway."
"…hate…hate…"
"You're still not going to give up are you?"
"I'm not an idiot. I'll prove it."
"By using Mai to do the dirty work for you? Well, I'll be damned…"
Varon would have retorted back, but kept silent as the pair stopped directly in front of Mai Kujaku's bedroom door. He knocked solemnly on the wood, wondering in the back of his mind if this was the best thing to do. Within a few seconds, the door opened to reveal a worn-out and distressed Mai who looked as if the nightmares had been plaguing her again. But this served to please Amelda even more.
"Hello there, Kujaku-san."
"…hi, Mai."
Mai Kujaku glared darkly at the two Doma warriors standing in her doorway. Varon was uncharacteristically sullen yet Amelda looked as if his face was on an overdose of botox due to all the smiling.
"What do you two strudels want?"
"Well, you see, Kujaku-san," Amelda began, ignoring the fact that he had just been just called a pastry. "We have a problem that we can't solve. Varon here, often bragged about your…feminine intellectual wit so we both decided that since you're definitely a hell of a lot smarter than the two of us…"
Varon shot a glare at Amelda. He loved Mai, but this was getting ridiculous.
"…you can help us solve the problem," he finished.
Mai's amethyst narrowed dangerously and she looked as if she was on the verge of bitch-slapping the round of them to next Thursday had it not been for that tiny hint of flattery.
"Fine. Then, spit it out," she snarled.
Amelda's smile grew even wider. Varon blinked in apprehension. He nudged the gray-eyed boy on the side. "…give her the hardest thing you could come up with," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Gotcha."
Amelda took a deep breath.
"If I had five apples and I took away one apple…how many apples would I have left?"
…
…
…
"ARE YOU CRAZY?" Varon shrieked and wildly threw his arms up in the air. "THAT WAS THE BEST YOU COULD COME UP WITH?"
He regarded Varon with a timid lip pout. "I have my limits you know. It's not like I have an enormous amount of brainpower. I'm no genius like Seto Kaiba."
Varon stared. Then he spun around to face the blonde who had been ignored for the past two minutes. "Mai, just—"
SLAM.
A gust of wind. Silence.
Having forgotten (or merely ignoring) the recent turn of events, Varon turned to the redhead with a rekindle of his old brash face. "…she didn't say anything," he pointed out smugly. "Maybe she doesn't know the answer."
Amelda raised an amused eyebrow. As if on cue, the door suddenly opened again and out popped Mai's head; her face bursting with tomato-red fury.
"IT'S FOUR, YOU LOSERS!"
SLAM.
Varon stiffly wiped the spit/lipstick gunk off his cheeks. His face turned stony again. "Amelda."
The redhead let out an airy laugh. "Yes, I know. You hate me."
"…tartar sauce."