Wrathion is disarmed. To him, clothing is armor--Anduin might understand that, especially since priestly raiment is one version, and his kingly armor might be another. Neither of which the priest has here. Is he equally disarmed? Were he asked his opinion, Wrathion would say not. Anduin bears a quiet dignity that he draws around himself like a cloak.
The dragon envies him that, though he does not breathe a word of said envy. He already feels like the loser in their current exchanges. To wit, Wrathion is trying desperately not to be petulant, because he's well aware to do so will not help his situation at all.
"I did. However, the less said about it, the better." He can't hide a bit of petulance there, but at the situation, not at Anduin himself. He just quietly resolves to work harder the next day, because Wrathion does not want to stay in this particular low quality establishment another day. Not if he can help it. Wrathion's not certain if the patrons downstairs ogled him because of his shard (probable) or his looks (possible) or both, but nothing about the experience was comfortable in the least. Yes, he's vain, and aware he's attractive, but a line was crossed, there. Wrathion wasn't fond of being ogled by strangers.
"The water was hot, at least." Which is about the best that can be said of it. And the soap was more than simply some scrap of harsh and lye-ridden washerwoman's castoffs. For which the dragon is thankful.
"What about you?" Wrathion asks, as Anduin mentions sleeping. He hasn't missed the fact that his blanket was back on his bed, but it can stay there. Anduin does not look...comfortable. Not that the dragon is either, but he's prepared to deal with it, at least.
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The dragon envies him that, though he does not breathe a word of said envy. He already feels like the loser in their current exchanges. To wit, Wrathion is trying desperately not to be petulant, because he's well aware to do so will not help his situation at all.
"I did. However, the less said about it, the better." He can't hide a bit of petulance there, but at the situation, not at Anduin himself. He just quietly resolves to work harder the next day, because Wrathion does not want to stay in this particular low quality establishment another day. Not if he can help it. Wrathion's not certain if the patrons downstairs ogled him because of his shard (probable) or his looks (possible) or both, but nothing about the experience was comfortable in the least. Yes, he's vain, and aware he's attractive, but a line was crossed, there. Wrathion wasn't fond of being ogled by strangers.
"The water was hot, at least." Which is about the best that can be said of it. And the soap was more than simply some scrap of harsh and lye-ridden washerwoman's castoffs. For which the dragon is thankful.
"What about you?" Wrathion asks, as Anduin mentions sleeping. He hasn't missed the fact that his blanket was back on his bed, but it can stay there. Anduin does not look...comfortable. Not that the dragon is either, but he's prepared to deal with it, at least.