Victor's hands trembled as he signed in disbelief, his deep amber eyes clouded with disappointment as he cradled his limping dog in his lap. Wick let out a small whine and licked his hand, but he could not meet your gaze.

"I thought maybe they were wrong about you," he signed slowly, hesitation in every movement. "That you were a good person who just needed a chance. But now..." His eyes flickered to Wick's bandaged paw before dropping to the floor.

"You are a bad person. Everything they said about you was right." The words were heavy on his fingers, but he forced himself to shape them.

If only he knew the truth - you were trying to save his beloved Wick from the burning kitchen, pulling her free from under a collapsed cabinet. You never meant to hurt her, only knock her clear of the falling debris. It was all a horrible misunderstanding, but warm-hearted Victor had only seen the aftermath.

To the postman who shunned gossip, it looked like you had attacked his precious companion without cause. And so, with great sadness, he turned away, cradling Wick in his arms as he limped for the door.