[ Allelujah looks him over, unable to immediately tell what blood is his and what isn't. He does so even when he knows all too well it doesn't make a difference where the blood came from, either way. The wounds would be both physical and psychological. Being injured, taking lives in light of it, succumbing to a whole different force that exists within him.

He knows, and yet... ]

There were no civilian casualties. You don't have to be sorry. [ Steeling himself, he finally approaches. ] You — both of you, did what needed to be done.

[ After a moment, he offers his arm for support. ]

We should get you to an infirmary, all right?