Well, to judge by how swiftly he actually donned his trousers, the dragon had had no intention of flashing Anduin. He is really going to have to work on redressing his Visage in the near future.

No pun intended.

Wrathion's brows furrow, lips pursing in irritation as the priest suggests a support for his leg, and he shakes his head. "If I stay off it when I can, I should be fine. You're right about disinfectant, though. I've been bitten more times than I care to think about, and I'm certain they were undead." Bad enough to be bitten by humanoid teeth, but undead are worse.

"Would you rather come with me to get those supplies?" While Wrathion knows what he would prefer Anduin to do, he thinks that he should not deny Anduin the option. However, he is quietly hoping that the priest just...feels too tired to keep going. He does pause so that if Anduin does decide he needs to oversee the supply-gathering, they don't have to redouble their steps at all.

Wrathion has had some experience with tending wounds, but it isn't even a sting to his pride to know which of them is better at it.