What a curious thing, this Johnny. He certainly doesn't conduct himself in a manner befitting his scale, if Desire is in any way correct in their assessment of this place. It could go on forever, and the thought makes their heart pang a little.

They sidle closer to him, and tilt their head just a bit; it's confusing, they cannot yet discern enough of his nature, though they can sense his attraction, sharp and superficial. How odd. A more direct approach is required, perhaps: they reach out and stroke his hand and even in this dream state they can tell how concentrated he is, physical and finite and not at all the vast cold thing they were expecting.

"Oh," they say softly, the tiniest bit bewildered, "but you're a...human being."