Anduin gathers Wrathion's clothes together as he hands them over, flashing him a wry smile in response to the commentary he provides as he undresses. Raising an eyebrow at the idea that anybody should fight over his care here, if he's being honest, but deciding it's better not to comment on that.

He can't help but smile wider as he watches Wrathion start to wade out, as the griping begins. He doesn't really blame him. It's cold enough standing there with his coat and gloves on. He would trade places with Wrathion if necessary. But Wrathion had offered, and it does make the most sense.

He opens his mouth to comment that they are potentially dealing with some aquatic malady here -- when Wrathion's stance changes. Anduin tenses himself, shifting the bundle of clothes in his hands to free up a hand in case he needs to cast himself.

"What? What is it?"