Grell preferred to work with music. Opera to be exact. The rich, passionate high notes of the singer mingling with the terrified whimpers of the unfortunate little slut he had picked up less than an hour before always put him in such a lovely mood to work. And work he would. He'd already applied a lovely dark blue eye shadow to bring out the teal of her eyes. It was unfortunate though. If those pretty eyes of hers didn't stop tearing up every time he moved, her mascara would run down that lovely face of hers and into the rouge sweeping up her high cheekbones.

With the single candle lighting his dim work room, Grell untied the handkerchief between the young woman's teeth. She let out a small sigh, almost of relief. Leaning close, he raised a single finger to his lips and gently shushed her. Although she let out a soft squeak, she remained quiet for the most part. What a good girl. She was so much more well-behaved than the others. Perhaps if she continued to be a good girl her death would be quicker than theirs. Maybe he'd even kill her before watching his Madame slice open her sternum and dismember her, taking her uterus as punishment for wasting her gift of being able to bear children of her own by simply aborting them. What he wouldn't give for that, to be able to carry a child of his own, to feel it grow and kick inside of him. What woman in her right mind wouldn't want that? Even one as lowly as a street walker.

Chills ran through the Reaper's body at the thought of Madame Red, already dressed head to toe in the bright red color he loved so much, being splattered with blood; that beautiful color staining her pale skin and hair. The thought excited him almost as much as being the one to spill it himself.

Grinning, he picked up the small disk of lip stain and brush from the table beside the girl with bound hands and feet, swirling the fine bristles through the deep red stain a few times before moving to slowly glide it across his prisoner's trembling lower lip. Slowly, so careful not to smudge it in the candle light. A smudge would only make the purple bruises around her mouth from the handkerchief he'd gagged her with even more evident.

Outside the window lightning flashed and the girl flinched.

The Reaper scowled and pulled the brush away. It was smudged. The little whore had ruined his hard work! He grabbed her jaw roughly, his shark-like teeth gritted in annoyance. She let out a small gasp of either surprise or pain, he didn't care which. She had ruined her makeover. The only thing left now was to give her a more permanent one with her lovely red blood.