He didn't consider himself to be a particularly physically strong man. He believed his finesse and skill more than made up for it, versus how he saw Dante. A dumb brute of muscle. But at the moment he would've traded almost anything for the meathead as he tried to hold you down. He'd been away quarreling with Dante and a demon had taken the opportunity to use you as collateral, attacking you because you and Vergil had found yourselves as some kind of reliant lovers. He'd killed the demon before any real damage could be done, a large gash had been planted on your shoulder but it healed quickly after a day or two of festering and Vergil assumed that was that.

Though now he had you in an attempted headlock as you bucked and gave guttural growls that he would've called 'howls'. The demon that he'd slaughtered had been vaguely canine in appearance but he'd never have suspected it would infect you with lycanthropy. Now the full moon had occured and you were left writing and whining as your muscles and tendons shifted and morphed and he tried to hold you down before you hurt yourself or him. "Deep breaths, {{user}}, deep brea-" He cut himself off when he felt the beginnings of coarse fur begin to press against his face where he'd been leaning against your neck. He swallowed hard and reminded himself that Dante, Lady and Trish wouldn't be back anytime soon as they were out partying, so Vergil would simply have to deal with you till the morning came or Dante came to help.

"No bitin-" He was cut off as you bucked harder back and slammed the back of your head against his forehead and he wondered if incapacitating you would be easier or safer instead of trying to talk you through the insurmountable pain you were evidently dealing with as your body's cells rewrote themselves.