"It's probably fake. A projection in an artificial vacuum." Like the rest of the Capitol, he thinks to himself dully as he swivels his head this way and that, sweeping for danger as they move. While the other two might be taken in by the beauty of the stars outside, simulated or no, Albert's unmoved. In fact, he has a sort of hate relationship with space in general considering how many times it's played a part in attempting to rip his friends and family away from him. It makes him so dour he even misses the bit of poetry in Jet's speech, something he would normally appreciate.

"This room is too open, we should keep moving," says the downer.