Time and better nutrition had taken the skinny off of Dante's form; he was halfway on his way to the broad-shouldered powerhouse he was going to be.

He didn't like Max. He liked even less how much Max reminded him that, once upon a time, he'd been fucked up and fatalistic and desperate enough that if Max'd been even a smidgen less of an asshole--

He pushed the thought down.

"Wasn't what it looked like when I took your head clean off," he said, voice steady in a way that was unnatural for him.