Wrathion lets out a low grumble of discontent at the fussing, but he complies -- allows Anduin to begin rubbing more moisture from his skin. It runs out of his hair slowly, damp tracks falling in lines down his skin as he shivers.

"I did say it was unpleasant," he protests. It wasn't as if he was trying to claim it was an enjoyable experience! Quite the reverse! He just said he doubted it would kill him. He sniffs unhappily, reaching out one hand to brace on Anduin's shoulders as the man aggressively rubs warmth into his skin.