[ Even if Wriothesley had every reason to communicate without reservation, Pinocchio is still honored to have been taken into his confidence, to be told frankly what was and wasn't possible, and why. He isn't used to his curiosity being honored with such thorough consideration — no puppet would be, even if he became something more, something almost human.

He's disappointed to not be able to grant that desire to a friend who has been nothing but good and giving and kind, but recognizes that disappointment is a gift, too. If he could not care about someone, if he couldn't want and yearn, he would never have known that feeling.

There's a group playing a drinking game involving dropping classes of a clear liquid into pints of beer and quaffing them down, he answers when their cheering has died down. ] ...Before I came here, bondage meant something different to me. Trying to, [ his eyes flinch as he struggles to summon the words he wants, and he calmly pulls his cup of tea closer, ] Replace that meaning with something that... that many people invite. It's hard.

If I can envision it, I can understand it.