"Mate, what's with the shirt?"
He was in the middle of reading a vampire science-fiction novel when the question had popped out of thin air.
It was very interesting actually, the book of course; because the author had taken the pleasure to write many gory scenes with explicit descriptions about how the vampire would torture his victims before killing them. Amelda was up to the part where the vampire would gorge out a man's eyeballs before ripping out his spinal cord and then proceeded to wrap it around the victim's neck and strangle him with it.
This was basically what he wanted to do to Varon right now.
Amelda shot him a menacing glare. "What's wrong with my shirt?"
The Australian removed himself from his position in the hallway and walked inside his room. He strode over to where Amelda was lying comfortably on the bed and sat down next to him. "There's nothing wrong with your shirt. It just looks…strange."
Amelda set down his novel on his lap. "Strange?" he repeated flatly.
"Yeah, strange. It looks so…" Varon waved his arms around and exaggerated the word 'so' with big, loopy motions. "…so…"
The redhead rolled his eyes at his comrade's ridiculous antics. Why couldn't Varon leave him alone already? Didn't he have anything better to do than annoy the people around him?
Amelda leaned over by the nightstand and grasped a mug filled to the brim with a dark brown liquid. He took a sip of his chocolate while Varon continued flailing his arms around.
Varon paused for a moment, searching for the right adjective, before it came to him. He grinned and pointed a jabbed a finger in Amelda's direction.
"Your. Shirt. Is. Feminine." He declared smugly.
Amelda spat out the drink; efficiently staining his nice, clean carpet by doing so. He slammed his mug down. "E-excuse me?"
"It shows too much of your skin—your abs mainly," Varon snorted and flexed his own, well-toned, totally-unfeminine muscles. He flashed an arrogant grin at the half-glaring, half-disgusted redhead. He sneered.
"Don't feel bad, Amelda. It's not as if a bloke like you have anything to show off anyway..." His gaze flickered upwards. "And you also have the strangest hair that I've ever seen."
Amelda wiped his mouth.
It was official. Any and all Australians were banned from ever stepping foot into this room again. He sent the armor-clad boy the iciest glare he could muster and pointed to the exit. "Varon, shut up and get out."
Varon stuck out his tongue childishly. "It's a free country you know. I'm just speaking my mind."
"You are so not speaking your mind," Amelda snapped back. "You're just telling me I'm girly-man because of my shirt."
The brunette smirked. "Well, I can't deny that, mate. You ARE a crossdresser."
Amelda's eyes narrowed into tiny little slits. "Take that back."
"Heh, give me one reason to."
Amelda leaped from his bed, lifting his book threateningly over Varon's head. Varon made a mental note to never let the older boy read a book again in case he might end up in a coma.
"TAKE. IT. BACK." he snarled.
Varon drew back from the seething redhead and his Vampire novel of Doom. "Fine, fine!" he pouted and crossed his arms.
"You're not a cross-dresser," he mumbled grudgingly. He paused, deep in thought. "But you still have the strangest hair."
Amelda growled under his breath, but set down his book nonetheless. He shot Varon what had to be like the umpteenth glare during that hour. "So now you got a problem with my hair?" he muttered fiercely.
But Varon took no heed of the silent promise of death in his voice and continued to ramble; though more to himself now than to the boy in front of him.
"It looks so unnaturally…magenta! I mean, did you dye your hair the wrong color or something?" he exclaimed, now facing the wall rather than Amelda.
Amelda cracked his knuckles. Oh, the Aussie would pay for that…
He was about to pounce on the armor-clad boy and beat the stuffing out of him, if he hadn't continue 'speaking his mind'.
"And speaking of which, I watched your duels! The only thing you do is make cheap insults and smack down some weak machine monsters!"
"Well, excuse me, Aussie," Amelda spat. "But I'd like to see you—"
The Australian shushed him with a wave of the hand.
"—and really, Amelda, but what's with your clichéd revenge scheme? I know that Gozoborou killed your family…but Seto? The poor guy did absolutely nothing so I don't see why you're going after him. If I didn't know better, mate, then I would have thought you were obsessed with Kaiba for other reasons—"
That broke the straw on the camel's back. Amelda hastily pushed the young boy to the exit without further notice. Varon gaped in confusion.
"Whoa, hey, wait—" he protested.
Amelda took this opportunity to kick him in the butt.
And the door slammed behind him. Varon sorely rubbed his backside before turning around and staring at the door in irritation. A pout formed on his lips.
"Jeez, I didn't say anything wrong...that bloke has anger problems…"
"…not to mention that he wears the most feminine shirt…"