All of the obvious questions stayed silent on his tongue - how did the black coats protect them, if they did at all; how did the king have one just for him; how was he supposed to be taking each exchange that seemed more and more as if they were just dancing around the same potentially fatal loneliness...

He didn't ask them, because he knew the answers would be just as disconcerting as the questions. Yet he held the king's hand, walking through the darkness that threatened to swallow them with every step. They hadn't run out of words - they just didn't always need them. The connection was there.

Riku tried to keep smiling, thinking of how bright the light would be when they emerged wherever they were going. And maybe once they were free of the binding dark, he could ask a question or two. Because really, answers were starting to sound like the sort of thing he wanted to hear.