"Yeah," says Wilde, softly. He could go on -- he probably would've, in normal circumstances -- but he doesn't. It's nice to just stand in semi-silence, listening to the cacophony of people and music from inside. There's something calming about it, like being in a bubble, but he can't help breaking it.

"Constant stars (http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/14.html)," he quotes, "in them I read such art."

An easy smile. "... In context the line's about looking in someone's eyes, but yours are a little hard to make out."