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“Oh, I’m the nightmare?!” I scream at him.

“Did I say nightmare?” he snaps back, shaking his head as his piercing dark eyes narrow to slits. “I meant little fucking PSYCHO.”

My right eye twitches violently.

“Do not. Fucking. Call. Me⁠—”

“The truth stings, don’t it?” Damiano fires back, a dark smile on his face. “Deal with it, psycho.”

With a screech, I launch right into him, catching him slightly off-guard with the force of my attack. He stumbles back into the tombstone, barely dodging the first parry of my knife.

I scream when he sweeps my legs, sending me to the ground again.

His plunging blade misses me, but the hilt of his knife slams angrily into my shoulder as I roll away. My own knife bloodies his thigh when I slice the tip across his pants, leaving a tear in the fabric and a thin red line underneath.

He nicks my hip.

I kick his shin.

He drives his shoulder into my stomach, doubling me over before I barely miss his face, taking a sliver of his chin when my blade swipes up for his jugular.

Suddenly, his hand wraps around my throat. The world spins as he whirls and slams me hard into the tombstone behind us. I jam my blade up to press against his throat, just as he does the same to me.

We both go still.

We’re both panting heavily, dirty and streaked with grass stains, bleeding from a half dozen little knife cuts as we glare death into each other's eyes and keep the edges of our knives pressed to each other’s necks.

My phone dings.

Yeah, not the time, whoever the fuck you are.

Damiano’s pings right after, but he ignores it as well.

Then mine goes off again. Then again. Then five times in a row just as his starts to ring endlessly.

“Better answer that,” I snap. “Wouldn’t want the raging hemorrhoidal asshole convention to kick off without its keynote speaker.”

“I can only assume they’re calling because they know I’ve got that keynote speaker right here,” he snarls, leveling a withering look at me.

“Wow, great comeback,” I hiss.

“Still better than your aim,” he sneers. “Talk about fucking amateur hour.”

My eyes narrow. “I nicked your chin.”

“Yeah, well you missed my throat.”

I bare my teeth and press my blade harder into his skin. “Want me to fix that?”

My phone starts blowing up again.

So does his.

We glare at each other as the dueling ringtones shatter the stillness of the graveyard.

Finally, Damiano growls deep in his throat.

“Pause?”