His gaze flickers briefly across the jihui board, a relic of memory, and traces of his smile return. But Wrathion's words command his attention once more, words that feel oddly honest and forthright for the young dragon.

Perhaps he realizes it too.

Before Wrathion can stand entirely, a hand rests against the crook of his arm. Anduin peers at him, halfway to standing himself if it means keeping that hold.

"Stay," he says again, quietly. "Please."

Though in truth a part of him has already let the situation play out, where Wrathion insists and withdraws and walks away, and it is the same as it ever was. Some part of him is already resigned, but another more stubborn fragment still ever clings to hope.