Fox's Glade saying fuck your name

Who said I was interested in joining your rag-tag band of crazies?
You did, Taylor wants to say. Your eyes, your ears, your mouth, they all did. Coolly, he says, I don't give a shit about the lunch. 
Toad jumps at him; Taylor rears back, but there isn't much room for error and he grunts as he's pushed back, teeth poking and then tearing at his neck. Pain strikes through him. For a moment he's back with his brother. Let's try this.
He snaps to the present, a low scream trapped in his throat. He's hyperaware of the hot blood welling up in the scratches on his neck. He writhes away from the bite as best he can, lowers his stance, and aims to grab Toad's right elbow with gnashing teeth, his eyes narrowed and hackles raised.