“If we’re going to be partners, we should at least get to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. So we can do better on the battlefield.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’ll start: my strengths include being able to form tactics and plans in the heat of battle and being able to predict enemy troop movements. I’m not so good with hand-to-hand combat, however.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Your turn.”

“I’m good at everything.”

“Be serious.”

“I am being serious, fat-ass.”

“Don’t call me that. Learning each other’s strengths and weaknesses could mean the difference between life and death—”

“Blah blah blah. Listen, you can just stay in the room from now on. I don’t need you slowing me down out there. I’ll take the missions and you can sit here and, I don’t know, eat chips or something?”

“Excuse me? Listen here, Cavvar-kid—”

“Don’t call me that, fat-ass.”

“Then don’t call me fat-ass, Cavvar-kid.”

“You can use my fucking name and I will use yours when you have earned my respect.”

“Back at you, asshole.”

“Are you doing this with me right now, fatty? Because we know how this fight will go.”

“Do we? Last time I checked our fight was stopped before a victor was chosen. And what was it again? Oh, right, you had to go into suspension and were stuck at base while the rest of us got familiar with the lay of the land.”

“What’s there to be familiar with out there? It’s a fucking desert planet! I can’t imagine something as exciting as figuring out the lay of the land! Wow, did you guys play eye-spy? ‘Eye spy…sand!’ That must have been fantastic! Too bad I was stuck here, training, while your fat ass rolled down some sand dunes!”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Fucking make me!”

“Why in the name of Vix did I get paired with someone as bull-headed as you?”

“Oh, woe is you, right? To be paired with the only person on this Vix-forsaken planet that can hold her own! You’re the one who has it bad, aren’t you? Want to make some tea and cry about it together, partner?”

“‘Hold her own’? You? I’m sorry, what happened last time the army ran into the Thrax? Wasn’t that…wasn’t that you who got surrounded because you’re a moron?”

“Who got her head bashed in the first day of training? Oh, right, that was you, because some idiot let a ball of dough into the army without teaching her how to fight!”

“It’s not like beggars can be choosers, Cavvar-kid! Look at you! You’re supposed to be the daughter of Jen Cavvar, some ‘great war hero’, and you’re running around bashing in the heads of your own people! You’re fighting more with me than you are with the actual enemy!”

“Don’t compare me to my mother! That old woman has nothing on me!”

“Doesn’t she? She would’ve had her team of three formed already, would’ve already scouted the playing field, and would be working in tangent with her fellow warriors instead of against them! You’re standing here accusing me of being some idiot who doesn’t know how to fight when you’re the one with mommy-issues and is taking them out on everyone else! Don’t laugh at me, Cavvar-kid!”

“Oh, I will do whatever I please, fat-ass. And you? Why don’t you stay the fuck away from me, okay? We’re not friends. And we won’t ever be friends. So don’t get your hopes up.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good. I’m going to train.”

“I won’t miss you.”

“Don’t stay up.”

“I won’t.”