Jericho woke early the next morning with a silent yawn. He was sleeping on the couch, which was much more comfortable than the rocky terrain he was used to. All the titans had offered him their rooms ("You will take my bed and that is the final!" yelled Starfire), but he turned them down. If he could sleep on a mountain, he would be just fine on a nice couch.

Jericho tried to be as quiet as he could as he looked for tea in the kitchen. The only kind he could find was a box of Earl Grey stashed in the back of a cabinet, looking awfully neglected. Jericho didn't particularly like Earl Grey, but it would do. As he boiled himself some water, he heard a noise coming from outside. He went closer to the door and pressed his ear up against it.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

So Raven woke early like he did. Of course, this meant that he wouldn't be able to play his guitar, which was always his favorite way to start the day.

Jericho silently gasped as the kettle started to whistle. He quickly took it off the stove to silence it before it woke the other titans up. He poured the water into a mug, and then put the tea in. He waited for several minutes so it could steep, then started drinking.

This Earl Grey was even worse than every other Earl Grey he'd ever had. The peppery taste almost made him cough, his eyes watering as he poured the noxious drink down the sink. If only he could just play his guitar, he might feel less awful about this morning.

Jericho decided that he would just go to the shore on the bottom of the T Tower to play his guitar. Raven might hear him, but he really needed it by now.

Lightly as he could, Jericho strummed all of the strings at once. The lower E was flat—it always was temperamental, and the salty, humid air wasn't helping—and the B was just a little sharp. Tenderly, he tuned the guitar, always being as quiet as possible. When he was done tuning, he quietly started strumming a classical piece, one that was meant to be quiet. He could hear Raven chanting from where he was sitting (a large rock right in front of the water). "Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

He smiled, glad she had the self-discipline to wake up so early every day and meditate. How diligent of her. He continued plucking the strings mildly.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

A shift of the hand to make the key minor now…

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

Holy out that note, exaggerate it, make it important…

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

And this one, accent it, make it even more important.

Silence.

Oops—he'd made that one a little too important. It still echoed a little through the thick air. Jericho quickly put his hand on top of the strings to silence them. He waited, but heard nothing. His eyes widened; he must have really disturbed her. He got carried away—the accent on the note was only supposed to make it stand out—he shouldn't even be playing this early in the morning in the first place—he probably just ruined her entire morning—he needed to remember he wasn't alone in the middle of nowhere anymore, he was living with a group of people—how inconsiderate—

"You're up early," mumbled a voice from the door to the T Tower. Jericho flinched, nearly falling off the rock and into the sea.

"Sorry for, um…Scaring you," she said quietly. Jericho shook his hand in the air, signaling that it was fine.

"Do you always get up so early?" she asked darkly. Jericho nodded and pointed to his guitar, then to himself, then drew his hand across his throat.

"No—you—you don't have to stop. I was actually wondering if…You…Would like to play while I meditated. I mean, because we're both up." Jericho was startled, but happy. He smiled widely and nodded enthusiastically. She sat down next to him, and started chanting as he played.

A B, an E, F sharp, fermata, and now pianissimo, a D…

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

Make that note matter more.