Anduin ignores Wrathion's sounds of protest, shifting his scarf in his hands to continue the motion of his drying, doing his best to rub the warmth back into Wrathion's skin as he moves.

"Unpleasant," Anduin says, "I'm sure does not even cover the half of it. That river is half frozen over, and the air out here is hardly any better."

He shakes his head again, turning his eyes up to meet Wrathion's before his expression softens, the heat of his concern gentling into something warmer.

"...thank you," he says, at last.