If he had breath, he would have sighed. As it was, he actually considered taking an unneeded one simply to do so. He forced his fists to unclench, shoving one hand roughly into the side pocket of his coat and lifting the other to his face, covering first his jaw and then moving it upwards to cover his eyes. He was trying to force himself back under control. It was harder than it usually would be, due to his hunger, but he managed it.
This was bad. The floodgate had been opened and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't close it again. He really had been changed by his time amongst the mortals, and especially his time with Faith, and trying to deny that would be...problematic. The problem was, now that the truth was out, there seemed to him very little chance that the one thing he wanted - he and Faith to be okay again - would ever happen. He wasn't much for conflict resolution. It had been two thousand years since he'd even been human, he had no clue how to fix problems with one.
But Sam was human.
In the blink of an eye, he was back at the bench, though he was crouching on it rather than sitting on it. He was turned to face Sam, his glowing red eyes studying him intensely. His knees were practically up to his chest and his arms were wrapped around them, and his head rested atop his arms. Finally, after several long moments of intense study, he questioned, "How do I fix this?"