"Mmmmh. Sucks to be a king, huh?" The last comment is offered in jest. Vector ducks instinctively as they progress and the ceiling becomes lower, tensing his jaws at the feeling of restriction every part of him rejects. He has wings, he should fly. Not crawl through spaces where he couldn't even properly spread them. (Although how long has he not done that recently? He misses it.)

Chasing the thought away with a shake of his head, he turns his attention back to Atem. "What happened after the last time we parted? I heard some things, but I'd rather hear it from you than blindly trust gossip."