Disclaimer: Devil May Cry does not belong to me. I am simply borrowing the universe and its characters for a little bit.
Taste
When one spent the majority of one's time ripping the life from others, it was only expected the job would be messy. No amount of skill could keep one clear of all the gore. At times, if Vergil's care slipped, the blood of his enemies ended up splattered across his cold face, the dark liquid tasting metallic on his tongue. His demon half rejoiced at the flavor—drank it in and demanded more. It was an insatiable, gnawing hunger, yet the feeling never lasted. No matter how much the devil enjoyed it, his long-buried human soul forced him to spit it out each and every time.