Janx despised the inevitable after-effects of using chronometric goggles. While he had acquired the desired information, it was not without cost. The temporal radiation the device emitted left him with a headache of such intensity it would have vaporized a being of lesser magnificence than him.
He wanted nothing more than a suitably-sumptuous meal, a sauna bath and days of uninterrupted sleep. Sadly, circumstances permitted him greasy takeout pizza and a lukewarm shower in his shabby hotel. As for the restorative embrace of slumber, he had little doubt Talanda would muck that up for him.
His painfully-bloodshot eyes came to rest on the scarred upright piano in the corner of the room and, though he was uncertain such a primitive instrument would work, Janx balanced his bare feet on the tenuous surface of the keyboard. Xankelian tonal acupressure was just what he needed to soothe both his mind and body.