Ribbon didn't know horror movies, one of the things about being born blind, you didn't get to see all those grisly things they could depict on the screen for the edification of the masses. However, to say she hadn't heard herself described as a creature straight out of the horror movie would be incorrect. Ribbon knew her reputation as the Island's Monster, the King's Killer, all the assorted little nicknames and how absolutely terrifying being in her presence could be. It was something she actually banked on. She used it to knock her opponents off of their game. Set them up for the takedown.
It was no unusual for her to think in those terms. Killing someone was a different thing entirely. She tilted her head as he swallowed, marking his reaction. He was afraid of her. Yet, he had the good sense to realize that running was not in his best interest. In this kind of space, running would have been a death sentence. Especially if she was thinking of attacking someone.
Attacking someone was, as usual, some distance from Ribbon's conscious mind. Not that it would take more than about a second for the kill switch to flip and her to go into a murderous rampage given the right stimulus, it wasn't immediately at the top of her brain. It was actually rare for it to be on top of everything when she wasn't in the arena.
Blood she knew. Amaretto was not something she'd ever tasted. Not something other people thought about giving her. Her head ticked in the other direction before without warning she dropped head first in the direction of the floor. It seemed she might strike, but then she'd turned over and landed in a crouch. Her ribbons brushed out and then forward, making what looked like modified wings. When she put her hands on the floor, it was obvious that her fingers were odd things, exceptionally long things and white like bleached flour, the same shade as her face.
She crawled close enough to sniff the bottle of Amaretto before turning her head and sneezing. It wasn't that the scent was unpleasant, but to clear it out of her nose to smell something else. The blood was fairly fresh, not as fresh as she got from killing someone, but then again...blood's freshness went down considerably once you got it out of the body. Adopting a rather cat-like pose, she picked up the bottle, not with her hands, but with one slick ribbon and took a sip.
That got another smile though she put the bottle back on the floor. Then she picked up the can, but rather than drinking out of it, she offered it back to Mason, as if she recognized it as the more important of the two things offered.