Wrathion's eyes drift to watch the soothing wash of healing magic, considering that. It is a reassurance, is something he would categorise as in character for the man. Is it enough to prove that he's himself? He doesn't know.

Better than nothing, perhaps.

He will betray you, the priest whispers, and Wrathion realises he isn't sure which of them he's talking to now. Both, maybe, to try and turn them against each other. It makes a shiver of unease pass over him, and he reaches to touch a hand to Anduin's arm.

"You can answer outside."

An allowance, since he's not certain he's comfortable lingering here himself.