Laughing louder, Rampage keeps a hold of Tarn's arm long enough to lunge forward and - snicketysnack just like that - neatly bite off the tip of his pinkie finger, right at the knuckle.

Ah, such a tiny morsel! He really wants more. To crack major fuel between his fingers and drink them dry. To set a fire in his frame and let the fluids pop and sizzle. Peel open his chest and pick out all his favorite treats until all that's left is his aching, beautiful, agonized spark-

But he can't, and he sighs sadly, shifting his weight up and away from Tarn, crouching back on his heels instead. Killing Tarn means his fun has to end, and he's hoping to keep this source of tasty emotions around for a very long time.