Anduin lets out the breath of a laugh, shifting his scarf to mop up the worst of the dampness on Wrathion's chest. He can see the way Wrathion's skin is covered in goosebumps, his hair standing up even on his chest. He's heard him complain about the cold before, but he doesn't think he's ever seen him shivering. Not like this.

"Duly noted," he replies. "I'm content with them just as they are, if it's all the same to anybody else. Here--"

He throws his scarf around Wrathion's shoulders so that it can catch the dripping of his hair, before tugging off his gloves and catching one of his hands between his own. The fact that his fingers actually feel cold is startling.