She was a nice looking girl, with both muscles and curves in all the right places. That was about the only good thing that Eliza could say about her though. By no means was Cerebella a rarity; considering how long Eliza had been alive (if that was even the proper term to describe her existence), she had seen many, many pretty girls.
Some girls, such as Eliza herself, were beautiful. Truly beautiful girls tended to age and die. When their last breath was taken, many weeped at their loss. Once the tears dried, they put away their tissues and continued on with their own lives. Cerebella was just pretty, and she doubted that the girl would even get an obituary in the morning newspaper.
"Horace," Eliza said, turning away from the girl. "Clean her up for me, would you?" She dropped her skeletal hand, still dripping warm, dark red blood, to her side and picked up her pace. "The night is still young, and I can almost smell the Skull Girl." She licked her lips.
Whatever praises Cerebella sang of the Medici clan, she doubted that any of them would get too concerned over her disappearance. At most, they might put two and two together and figure out what happened - long after they had a chance to change anything. If the Medici clan was truly as ruthless as the circus performer described, then they would surely have others to do their dirty work, other cogs in their machine. Most Medici members probably didn't even use tissues.
Bringing a skeletal finger to her fleshy tongue, she licked the dripping end of her ring finger.
"Hmmmm," Eliza said, her eyes darting back to the sprawled body on the floor. Most of her was blocked by Horace, but Eliza could still make out Cerebella's turquoise hair.
She supposed the girl deserved credit. Though there were many pretty girls in the world, none had such scrumptious blood as Cerebella did.
Eliza licked her fingers until they were bone dry.