Anduin would have wielded a butter knife or a teaspoon if that had been all there was to hand, so he cannot truly judge Wrathion for what looks like a kitchen knife. Some weapon is better than no weapon and he gives a small nod at the mention of being on his guard. The last few days(?) have been awful and it doesn't end yet, Anduin knowing he won't be comfortable until he's back in his assigned "home".

Even then that's not safe though he banishes that thought, instead opting to blatantly ignore his current location of walking through the operating room. Blue eyes remain steadfastly focused on the way ahead, though the remnants of a song do echo through the young King's mind as they make their way through the room.

"The last thing we need is for them to be more intelligent, though we shall deal with them should we cross paths. I would suspect those in charge here will have taken the important things with them by now." Which brings up another question for later. How did they know the rescuers were coming? Anduin rubs the back of his neck, still vaguely surprised by the lack of hair.

It's only when they reach the next room that Anduin pauses, ears straining as he hears something faint from further down the hallway. "Voices?"