Death Knight hums with a smile as he watches the dark red, viscous liquid drip all over her. It's obscenely enjoyable, to the point where certain strange feelings happen in his body, a heat spreading. He ignores it.

There is only rage in her eyes; if she feels fear, it must be all immediately converted to anger, the way all of his emotions are.

"You and I may not be as different as you think," he murmurs, more thoughtful than anything. With how much she hates him, that comment will probably worsen her rage, and he prepares to have blood spat at him. No matter- he's used to being covered in blood.

"Prideful. Rageful. Violent."