Feeling lost. [A beat.] Lonely. [Another beat.] Less lonely now, of course.

[Chilton got about opening a bottle, serving himself first before Rincewind.]

Dorian Gray? The man's a narcissist. Malignant, bored -- the kind who'd brutalize you if it suited his fancy. [A long, long sip of wine followed.] Better hope he sincerely likes you.