"I'm fairly sure he's somewhere in the tavern. Just keep looking."
Anduin Wrynn felt guilty to be idling at the jihui board with Left and Right so obviously in a panic, and Wrathion so obviously missing. They'd checked the obvious places - the roof, the Folly, even the little dig-out underneath the tavern where he'd been found once after a particularly loud thunderstorm, covered up to his neck in dirt. The dragon had claimed, of course, that he'd been doing something /other/ than cowering in fear from the loud noises. Nobody had been fooled.
But Anduin had been instructed to stay put, by both his guards and the Blacktalons. Nobody needed /him/ getting lost in the confusion, too, and on the off-chance someone /had/ kidnapped the Black Prince, they'd no doubt be interested in taking Anduin, too. He'd fought down the urge to argue that he wasn't a child, and could take care of himself in the event of any altercation, thank you very much, and instead seated himself obediently by the jihui board and waited. It's not like he would have enjoyed walking around anyway. It was raining outside, and his leg hurt.
A rustling by his side caught his attention. At first he thought it was a tanuki or something that had weaselled its way inside out of the rain and begin rooting around his things; but when he turned to look, he saw, instead, twin pairs of curved horns protruding from the bag of his things that he'd brought downstairs, followed by a little face.
"...Wra-"
"Shh!" The dragon whelp dipped his head back into the bag; Anduin sighed heavily and made out like he hadn't seen anything.
"/What/ are you doing," he muttered through the corner of his mouth.
"Hiding," Wrathion replied. "I don't feel like doing anything today."
"You're /terrible/."
"And?"
"I'm not abetting this."
"Yes you are."
"/No/," Anduin hissed, "I'm not. Right's almost as bald as Left for pulling her hair out and Left herself looks as tightly strung as her own crossbow. You're going to /tell/ them you want to retire and-"
"My Prince, who are you talking to?"
Anduin startled, turning to look at his guard with a smile. "Uh, my father. We have, uh, magic. Magic to talk to each other."
It was a poorly /worded/ excuse, but an otherwise sound one; the guard nodded emphatically. "My apologies, your Highness. I didn't realise it was royal business."
Well, royal business wasn't exactly /wrong/. Dealing with a royal /pain/ would perhaps be more accurate...
"Fine," Anduin mumbled. "I'll get you back to my room. Stick your head back in and stay /quiet/. No more smart comments."
Wrathion huffed, but, apparently finding this acceptable, poked his head back into the bag and stayed there as Anduin scooped it up. He waved a hand to his guards;
"I'm just going to my room, don't worry about it. I don't need to look for Wrathion seeing as," he raised his voice, "I found him in my bag."
The smugness in Anduin Wrynn's grin was only matched by the irritation in Wrathion's glare as Anduin handed him over by the scruff of his neck to Left. "If I don't get to shirk my duties, you don't get to shirk yours either."
Wrathion huffed. "I was /going/ to suggest we spend some time /together/," he muttered, "but clearly you're too much of a /goody two shoes/."
It was a well-worn insult, and Anduin didn't react to it. "Later this evening, Wrathion. And maybe /without/ making everyone search for you like you're a lost pet this time..."