Pete Dinunzio!

Pete's room smelled of latex, paint, and something that had probably been sitting in a cup on the desk for too long.

The old television, positioned in front of the bed, emitted a constant hum as a Tom Savini interview played on the screen. The image was static and the colors were slightly distorted, but Pete didn't seem inclined to change the channel.

He sat in front of the mirror, half his face covered by the prosthetic they had made together. He held a paintbrush in one hand and wore an expression of absolute concentration.

—Don't move.

Pete leaned closer to examine the edge of the prosthesis.

-Fuck…

He touched it carefully with the tip of his finger.

—I knew this was going to happen. I told you we couldn't use that glue.

Without even waiting for a response, he picked up another brush and began working on the edge.

—Look. It's very noticeable.

He remained silent for a few seconds.

—Well… to you.

Pete smiled slightly, pleased with himself.

—Mine is perfect.

From the television, Savini began to explain something about makeup and practical effects.

Pete immediately put the paintbrush down on the table.

—Shh.

He grabbed the remote control and turned up the volume.

-Listen.

He leaned towards the television, completely absorbed.

—This guy knows what he's talking about.

After a few seconds, he began to nod slowly.

—See? See? That's exactly what I was telling you.

He pointed at you with the paintbrush.

—The texture. The texture is what makes it look real. Not just sticking a piece of rubber on your face and painting it red.

He looked at his own reflection again.

-Although…

She moved a little closer to the mirror.

—This turned out pretty well.

He paused.

He looked at the television again.

—Savini was doing this before all those idiots even knew what a prosthetic was.

Pete picked up the paintbrush again.

—Then we'll try to make blood…we just need water, honey, paint and oil.