"It is okay. I have you," he reminded Rook, holding him a little tighter. Honestly, he wasn't entirely certain what was wrong but whatever it was clearly was taking a toll on the Gangrel. So Ash would hold him, steady him, until he was ready to separate. The sounds that escaped the younger Kindred both amused him and astounded him. No person should be able to make sounds like that yet here they were.
When Rook lifted his head, Ash settled a hand against his cheek, just to give him that solid warmth he seemed to seek so often. "I am nearly three centuries old. It would take a lot more than a handful of Anarch whelps to hurt me." Ash brushed the younger Kindred's hair back, "You... did not get any of that in your system, did you?"