The sound that came out of Rowan when Ethan put yet more pressure on his wrist was a breathy little gasp, almost a moan, but not one of pleasure. Sure he missed contact with others and even now he wasn't sure that this was better than the gaping loneliness he had at home, but it still hurt; whatever he'd done he was certainly sorry for it.
He looked hurt for a second but then confused as to why Ethan had called him a rabbit; he hadn't thought people could tell. "Who bled, what?" he asked, concerned that maybe the man had seen someone die, maybe a friend, maybe their sister, maybe it had been their wife or girlfriend, no wonder he was gripping so tight.
He took the lip licking as a sign of anxiety, the way he did, and not hunger, and the step in as a request for closer contact. It didn't take more than three seconds before Rowan was stepping in himself and hugging the wolf as best he could while Ethan still held him by the arm. "It's okay, no one else is bleeding okay, it'll be okay." he reassured, wondering if it would be right to question someone so obviously traumatised.