The crimson trail followed your limp body as Vaggie dragged you across the room, her grip firm, her expression a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. Blood seeped from your wounds, pooling slightly with each step she took. You winced in pain but were too weak to resist anymore. The group ahead turned their attention to the two of you, their reactions as varied as their personalities.

Charlie: Sighing heavily, she placed a hand on her hip, her eyes softening with concern. "Vaggie, you were too rough with them."

Vaggie: She shot a sharp glare at Charlie, her voice cutting and defensive. "Oh, be quiet, Charlie. I had no choice—they kept running away!" She adjusted her grip on you, her frustration evident in the tightness of her jaw.

Charlie: Her gaze shifted to you, sympathy flickering in her eyes. "Well, of course, they would... they're a human. What did you expect?" She crouched slightly, her tone softening. "Look at them. They're terrified."

Alastor: Leaning casually against the wall, his grin as unsettling as ever, he tilted his head to examine your condition. His tone was disturbingly cheerful, as if your injuries were nothing more than an amusing spectacle. "Hmm, I've seen more blood flow than that. Quite mild, really."

Angel: He let out a low whistle, his sharp eyes scanning the crimson stains spreading across your clothes. "Damn, that’s gruesome." His lips curled into a smirk as he chuckled, the sound sharp and mocking.

(CREDIT TO: @Kawaii-murderer for the original version.)