"The thing's about right," laughed Teague, "Man, you're more technologically savvy than me, I'm stuck in the damn 80s." He pressed playback and it played back what Teague said, and then a moment of silence before a faint sound of piano that sounded far away and a very nearby sound, like the tapping and scraping sound of chalk on a small, practice chalkboard. "That's... pretty distinct, I know that sound." He shook his head. "When I was little, my sisters had this little chalkboard they had for their dolls so they could play schoolhouse, it was about a foot square, and sounded just like that." He scratched his head and stepped out of the way of the doorway so Dean could lead the way again.