It's really- tangible, isn't it?

[Says Quentin, much more quietly now. He thinks of Alice, and everything he left behind.]

Jesus.

[Another couple of steps forward.]

I don't know if it's right that we should be here. [He isn't the kind of person who stops walking on just a suspicion, though. He moves deeper inside, glancing back over his shoulder at him, then up and at the ceiling, taking in the architecture.] It's like nothing from my home.