The stars aren't clear to him like they might be in the middle of nowhere, but he can see them now, faded points above his head, when before the night sky in this city was a violet haze over billions of lights. It was striking, and beautiful, and this is beautiful too. The lights are brighter if he focuses too long, the colors are more intense, everything dazzling and still there are stars, a predator's keen gaze adapting to runaway industrial progress.

It's honestly very cool.

"Do you know any constellations?" If Louis' going to laugh at them!

He looks around, peering about like maybe there's a hidden supply cache like in one of the video games his youngest spent the entirety of her community college years pursuing instead of coursework. If I were a very serious art museum's sneaky booze stash, where would I be. Well. Probably in the curator's office, they're like that.

"Alas, gentrification. No more porn theaters and the closest shitty bodega to a prestigious art institution is a shameful three blocks away."