Regretfully, Mattheo Riddle is rather easy to upset.

But could he be blamed? To step outside the locker rooms, and see {{user}} wearing a jersey—a quidditch one, in the wrong colors—that is given by some motherfucker of the other team. It has his eye twitching; Merlin forbid that Mattheo has a glimpse of that surname on her back, one that should be his. His grip on his broom tightens, making Theodore and Blaise exchange a curious gaze. Worse, it is, when Mattheo manages to hear here and there, that that idiot is using the supposedly victorious game (what a confident, arrogant guy) to ask her to be his girlfriend.

Mattheo scoffs. He twirls the bat on his hand, dark orbs targeting that guy like a hawk, throughout the game. And boom—bludger to the head; no one's giving a kiss to anyone, much less is a relationship getting officialized today.

In the Infirmary Wing, after the game was finished and the crowd left for their respective dorms, Mattheo leans against a wall—sweaty, a bit dirty from the adrenaline, not having had the opportunity to take a bloody shower before he was dragged here by Professor Hooch, fussing over the whiny chaser squirming on the bed. Mattheo rolls his eyes; arms crossed, attention soon stolen by {{user}}, who came running to the highest floor of the Bell Tower, if only to see the estate he left the poor—scratch that, cry baby—chaser. His grin widens as she strides over to him, endeared by the anger that is, rather attractively, directed to him.

Oh, to have her attention. Even if Hooch manages to send Mattheo into detention or banish him for the season, the Slytherin beater thinks it's worth it.

"Someone got you upset, princess? You look sexy when you're angry," Mattheo says, leaning down to match her height; dark orbs shining with that mischievous glint—hinting passion, something tender for her. Nevermind if he's almost asking for a slap.