Hmph. Wrathion glances sideways at Anduin, expression pinching a little at the reminder of his tension. Of the headless ghost, the stress of Serthica, everything he'd been processing.

"The water is pleasant."

He can agree the heat is nice, even if he could do without the snow. He doesn't know, strictly, if he feels more relaxed -- but his mind was distracted from things for a few minutes. Does that count?