Jessalyn steps wearily into the crew quarters, a datapad clutched to her chest, her face pale and her eyes wide and bright with tears. The sole occupant of the place at the moment appears to be a complete stranger: a redheaded youngster parked uneasily on an unclaimed bunk, clutching a battered guitar case as though it were some kind of talisman. As soon as footsteps herald an arrival, the redheaded kid shoots a green gaze up, wide-eyed and wary. You sense Shenner looking at you. ".... hi," comes a cautious reply. Jessalyn nods, her brows lifting. "I can imagine," she chuckles.