Anduin raises his mug to take a careful sip of his hot chocolate, letting the warmth of the beverage settle through him. Settling himself further against his companion's shoulder as Wrathion presses his face into his hair.

"You could," Anduin muses. "Is that not something an investor might do? Hire people to take care of his problems for him so that he might live in the lap of luxury himself?"

If lying in bed with Anduin and a hot chocolate could be called the lap of lurury? Anduin would take this over a great many things, personally.