It may not be a grand meal, but if Anduin was hungry enough Wrathion would be happy to wait for him to eat first. He's aware concentration suffers when the body is deprived. The priest doesn't seem fussed, however, so Wrathion slips on his clean shirt and a loose pair of slacks before settling down properly. He finger-combs the damp ends of his curls, frowning as they catch on a snarl.

"The food was for you," he points out, "eat whenever you prefer. I only meant to ask if you'd rather we wait so you can finish first."

He turns to pull his bag closer, fishing out a comb to try and do something about his hair.