Finally getting enough breath back to do so, Farfarello loosed a mad, mocking laugh. Blood flowed over both his hands, and the coppery reek of it filled the air. So close, so close--he almost had Caim that time.

Letting go of Caim's hand, finally, Farfarello swung his legs over the side of the bed, stomping one booted foot down towards the stunned man's throat. From a seated position he couldn't stomp hard enough to crush Caim's windpipe, but he could certainly make it harder for him to breathe for a few minutes.