Anduin's frown deepens as Wrathion steps away from him. He takes the opportunity to study his companion as he does, and he does not like what he sees there. The cracks in his facade are starting to visibly deepen, for all that Wrathion may want to try and pretend otherwise. And Anduin knows that he does. That he'd like nothing better than to patch it all over and pretend he was untouchable. Invulnerable.

Anduin knows from experience that such things never work. That you can bottle your problems up as much as you like, but there comes a point when they'll come spilling out over the edge.

The alcohol in the drink that Wrathion is clinging to might take the edge off of his nerves, but it will not be a comfort to him. Anduin hopes he is not being too presumptuous, as he closes the distance between them once more, placing a hand on the small of Wrathion's back as he does.

"Come," he says again, making to direct him again towards the little kitchen once more. "I will make you something warm."