Adrian raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. "With what? Your fingers?"
Karl pouted. "You're just jealous 'cause I have fluffier hair."
Milo giggled behind Adrian's back, trying to hold it in. But Adrian didn't smile.
"We have longer hair than you, Karl," Adrian took the tea from the tray without expression, sipping it as casually as if he'd just commented on the weather.
Karl froze. His eyes widened. He touched his fluffy little tufts of hair.
"You… you evil—" he gasped, voice cracking like an old radio.
Big, fat, dramatic tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks like raindrops on a tragic soap opera window.
"Hey hey don't cry, Brother Karl," Milo said worriedly as he tried to hug him, but Karl lightly pushed him away and sniffled, his face full of heartbreak.
"Why are you making fun of me, Brother Adi! Don't you remember that bas*ard face cut my hair, and it hasn't grown since then…" Karl muttered, his voice trembling with emotion.
