Wrathion surfaces suddenly, dark curls slicked flat, and glances around warily before rubbing trails of dark water from his face.

"Well, I think I can see one of your flowers -- but I'm not certain my new friend thinks its a good idea we take them."

He squints up at Anduin, shivering as the air hits his now cold skin.

"A dark-haired woman," he adds, and lofts an eyebrow -- flexing his fingers to try and keep them from seizing up.