He's uncertain what he expected, but the way Wrathion grips him tightly, drags him in, says so much all without words. And this isn't any more fair of him than chaining him up down in that tunnel had been, his senses spinning as he pulls back just far enough to breathe.

As first kisses go, this is...kind of ridiculous, he has to admit.

Focus.

"We need to leave," he utters softly, now that he has the dragon's complete and utter focus. Because the priests are still watching, still ready to feed Wrathion's need to lash out and invoke the spirit of the sleeping god below, and they can't stay here. He can feel his grip on his own reason slipping with each moment.

"Wrathion. Come with me. Please."