"It's just a little graze, Wrathion."
"But it hurts!" Wrathion glared into the passively amused face of Anduin Wrynn. He wasn't taking it seriously. The presented injury was hurting him dearly! Didn't he know he could get diseases from having his bloodstream open to the air? Or worse, accidentally animate rocks by having his blood fall on them?
Anduin's face softened as Wrathion's distress continued to be evident in his petulant pout. He could see it was upsetting the dragon, even if it wasn't that serious an injury. "Okay. Seeing as it's bothering you so much."
He gently laid his hands either side of the ripped satin cloth of Wrathion's trouser knee, then closed his eyes and steadied his breath. The Light came easily as always - but he suspected it was expedited even further by the affection he felt for the whelp, so clever yet so silly, that he was healing. Wrathion's scowl softened as the spell took effect, healing the shallow wound to its core and pushing the grit embedded into it out so Anduin could dust it away.
Wrathion looked aside, sheepish as always when he'd had to ask for some sort of gift rather than entering into a deal of some kind - or simply taking it. "… thank you, Prince Wrynn."