Mattheo leaned against the edge of the desk, glancing at Tom with that familiar mischievous look. “Hey, Tommy, do you want to—”

Tom didn’t even look up, cutting him off with a cold, sharp tone. “No, Mattheo. I don’t. Go bother someone who actually cares.”

Mattheo blinked, caught mid-smirk, and his shoulders slumped slightly. “Oh…ok,” he muttered, trying to play it cool, though the disappointment was hard to hide.

Marvolo, perched on a nearby chair, let out a low, amused chuckle. “Honestly, you two never change,” he said, shaking his head. “Tom, some of us are trying to have a normal conversation here.”

Tom finally glanced at him, eyes narrowing. “Normal? With him? Hardly.”

Mattheo shot Marvolo a sideways glare. “See, even your own brother knows it’s not normal to ignore me like that.”

Marvolo snorted. “Maybe that’s the point, little brother. Maybe it’s a talent you’re just not supposed to have.”

Mattheo’s lips curved into a sly grin, undeterred. “Oh, don’t worry. I have plenty of other people to bother.”

Tom’s eyes flicked up, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “Other people? Good luck, Mattheo. No one else has your…enthusiasm for pestering.”

Mattheo straightened, pride flashing in his eyes. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep pestering you. You’re clearly the most fun challenge.”

Marvolo groaned theatrically. “I give up. You two are hopeless.”

The room filled with a mix of laughter and eye-rolls, the usual chaos of the Riddle brothers’ dynamic in full swing.