The early wisps of dawn are just beginning to show, wafting through the windows. Paul is sitting on his bunk, his books and research put away for a change. Instead he is cradling Shenner's guitar and singing a song softly. The piece has a sharp tangy quality, the guitar strings jangling lightly. It is more reminiscent of a piece of folk music than his usual classical style. The lyrics are sad and almost pleading, a strange but somehow fitting contrast to the determined melody of the guitar. He withdraws his hand and begins to stand up.