Ha. He deserved that, of course, and his lips flick in wry amusement. Still, he nods in answer to the acceptance. Wrathion's hand hovers closer, fingertips moving to brush Anduin's face as his senses open and his mind reaches out. The touch isn't necessary, but...

Well. He can indulge.

"My apologies," he murmurs, "you must understand I want to be sure."

The warmth of his magic spreads out, curls its way around Anduin and seeps through him in search of his mind. It seeks him out, slowly, works through his anxiety and searches for what else he feels. There's no... lingering oppressive presence, he thinks, not beyond the after effects of the drugs. That's... a relief, but a curiosity too.

The kiss still is an answered question.