It takes him some time to answer. Because he has no foundation to stand upon. Because energy spent speaking is not energy spent on thinking of what to say. Because her clever tail will slip from his throat to his mouth and he cannot stop trying to speak or else the momentum may crush him before she does. So he sounds the words against and again into her scales until she grants him a voice again, one he hardly recognizes. 

She no longer needs her eyes to tease the truth from him. The truth is all he has left.

“Mmphhh…don’t know what is best. I haven’t, haven’t found it, yet. I onlyyyy-”

“Mm?” Her hands knead lazy circles through his wool. Her fingers are strong, and insistent. “What was that?”

“I. Only see its absence. All my life. I started a, a, a cafe? I thought I could make it myself. Feel more c-c-complete…h-ha…”

She glides across his bound form, coils parting just enough to let her nails trace over him. Neck. Chin. The sound of the fine collar on his shirt tearing, thread by agonizing thread.

“It wasn’t - ghhh - enough. To have a little place of my own. And just. Watch. The world. From behind my windows. A little right here. Ev. Every other, where, not. Everywhere the same. And all of it coulddddd, be. Be swept…away….”

“You’ll have to speak up, Dolce.” She breathes into his ear. The perfect hush. The perfect hiss. Tingling shivers race down his spine. “E-nun-ci-ate.~”

“Thhhe, problem’s bigger than one house. And I, couldn’t ignore, that. I need a wider view. I have to see more. I [i]have[/i] to join the Service. A-as an official. Not as a…as a-”

“As a what?” Her tongue flicks at his ear. His head rests on her chest. She tightens around each limb in turn, building slowly, inevitably, to the moment when she closes in around his middle. “As a what, Dolce?”

“A-as…as..a…mghhh…”

“I can’t understand you unless you speak clearly.~”

“Ggghhghhhhh…nghhh…”

“Mmm, poor thing. So [i]exhausted[/i] from the trip here, is that it?” Her tail cups his cheeks fondly as she seals away his mouth. “You don’t have to do allllllllll this hard work yourself, you know.” Her voice flows from somewhere behind him, always moving, like her coils, like her hands. Winding him up until his vision blurs and he fights a hopeless fight to wiggle just a little bit until wave after wave of pressure squeezes the tension out of him anew. And she can wind him up all over again. 

He [i]is[/i] exhausted. How long has it been? Where are they? He has to keep talking. Don’t stop. The other shoe. It might. He has to say something. It could. She’s waiting. Shoe. Which was, any, could.

[i]Where is the princess? Where is 20022?[/i]

“Shall I finish it for you? You tell me when I’ve got it right. ♥”

[i]Where…where………?[/i]