[ Ashton opens his mouth to say... something, but he doesn't know what. He just doesn't know a whole lot of anything right now. ] ...okay, Miranda. Sorry. I had the wrong idea.
[ He took his hand back, put it to his forehead, and rose up from the bench. Maybe he was too hot-blooded today. It wasn't healthy. And yet, in spite of the surge of feeling after feeding, he feels tired, like he's being stretched in a dozen different directions. He hasn't felt fatigue like this in some time. ] Can I... help you get home? It's the least I can do.