Amadeus was beyond reason now; he was too far swept up in his psychotic ideas and exhaustion. A deep frown was imprinted on his face. "I..." He struggled to find the proper words to express what he wanted to say. "I'm going to bed. Enjoy your rendezvous." He turned and began to walk out, his blue and bronze quidditch robes billowing behind him as he prepared to storm out of the darkened cinema. Before placing his hand on the door to push it open, he turned to face Braeden. "Don't bother sitting on the Ravenclaw side of the stands tomorrow. Although I doubt that you were going to, anyways." Turning on his heel, he promptly left, taking deep breaths as he told himself that he needed to push it all from his mind and get a good night's rest for tomorrow's game. He wasn't going to let a mop-haired Gryffindor and his hussy get him down, nor make him cost his team an important game.

As of that night, Braeden Stonem was nothing to Amadeus Kipling.