Anduin can't help but notice the way that Wrathion twitches, in response to his touch. Catching the flash of a wince across his face, there and gone again, as he leans against him. He's trying, he's really trying to be gentle with him. Understanding. Not to push too hard, too fast, even if he knows, he can see the strain in his companion.

Obviously he isn't getting it right. Maybe he's being too gentle? Too understanding? Maybe he's given Wrathion too much time, too much space. Or has he not given him enough?

Anduin wishes that Wrathion had a manual he could read on what to do, in moments like these. Shutting his eyes, he leans his head back against the rock wall behind himself and lets out a slow breath of a sigh.

"A month," he echoes softly. "Before the Merchant sends us off to our next destination, no doubt."