Wrathion twitches again as Anduin lets go and moves close, a suppressed wince playing across one side of his face as the man settles to lean into him. He feels... pitied. It's frustrating that the tangle of emotion is so... visible. That's the problem with these things, once they escape the box they simply never fit back in -- no matter which way he tries to turn and fold it all. It had always been easier to simply keep it packed away, to never let it free.

He's sure Anduin would disagree, would encourage him otherwise. The priest was always a problem, in that respect. Wrathion found it harder to control himself around him. He somehow managed to lure things out of him that he'd never felt before, that he struggled to categorise and deal with, and that was...

Terrifying.

He forces himself to breathe, slow and steady. To shift enough that his weight is comfortably against the walls of the hot springs, try to ease the tension out of his limbs little by little.

His heart is pounding regardless, but the tension does begin to lessen once he gets more comfortable.

"Well, given we're to remain here a month there is still time for that."

The words come out smoothly despite his lingering tension, and that helps. It helps to at least have some control over this, to feel as if he is still able to be himself.