Hans could not sleep to save his life. He was restless and could not stop thinking of things - then when he finally settled enough to lie down, his wound pained him and he could not get comfortable.

Finally he just gave up, dressed, and took a ride on Frollo down the familiar streets to the secret apartment. He would play his piano, and hope that this would help him sleep.

He climbed the stairs, wincing a bit at the pain it brought. Maybe he had overdone it the other day, touring the city. Too much walking too soon - the doctor had warned him against it, but he'd shrugged it off. Hans turned the key in the lock, then fumbled for the light as he stepped in.