We gotta get out of this place...
The music blared in his ears, so loud that it drowned out all the sounds around him. Paul had long since lost his ability to hear the small things though, like the birds chirping. There was always music. There was only music. Well, good music anyways. Paul wouldn't tolerate any crap. Arriving at Beata Academy felt like he was going to walk the plank. He tried to imagine himself Return of the Jedi'ing it up and escaping death all the while getting to be Mark Hamill.
It didn't help.
...if it's the last thing we ever do, we gotta get out of this place...
