The moment Crichton agrees there's a feeling of connection. The world leans in to listen; his heart races, and he knows, just knows, it's in time with Erin's.

She grins, and it's unfriendly. Then she passes the melatonin through the bars.

"Take the correct dose. Feel free to read the package, they're not drugs per se, but the only difference between medicine and poison is dosage. Then settle in, relax, and I'll sing you to sleep."

Her voice gentles: "I'm taking requests for the music."