[@Dark Light]

With the man settled he'd forgo them anymore attention as things happened behind him, turning to face the woman thrashing about as he groans and rushes for her. Though with her wild thrashing she'd take a good cut into his chest before he could grasp her hand and force the dagger out of it. As the magical vapor hisses out of his wound with purple slowly staining his front, he'd quickly stuff the dagger away in his pack without much care. With that out of the way he'd look to his own wound, this lady may be unable to be saved with how deep her injury went. He was lost on what to do, his eyes flickering to the men she struck out against, they still had time but she didn't.

"[color=goldenrod]Oh damn it all..[/color]" He'd utter under his breath as he wipes the purple blood under his shirt, making sure it was good enough before smearing it across her own wound. His gun at the ready as he forces her on the ground, ready to put a bullet in her if it doesn't work. No one should go out like this. But regardless of what happens he'd deal with her however needed before moving to help those she struck out against. He wouldn't care if he would be seen as cold-blooded or not, he's seen and been through enough to not care how others think of his actions. But now here he was tending to patrons, purple having soaked the front of the shirt to his dismay and this dagger which he didn't need to just feel was magical and dangerous.