“... oh.” Their face, hidden behind their mountain of hair, is a distinct tomato red. “Uh, sorry. I, uh, thought — uh, well.” Yes, you sweet simple child. How is it you can work out particle physics theories for funsies but can't pick up on basic social cues. Wolfgang is never more acutely aware of what a stereotypical nerd they are than at moments like these.
“That's, um, that's good. There's always the moon.” What. No. Normal people don't — “Uh, I mean, it's quiet...”