Jed's lying on the sofa in the Oval Office, shirt open, bowtie untied. C.J. wanders in. Jed morosely says, "He didn't realize what it was." C.J. doesn't know what he's talking about. Jed explains, "Freedom." C.J. sits down and says, "You could have cancelled the concert." Jed says, "There's a Korean word, han. I looked it up. There is no literal English translation; it's a state of mind -- of soul, really. A sadness. A sadness so deep no tears will come. And yet still, there's hope." C.J. looks slightly teary as she gets up and swishes out. Jed adds that he got a call from Geneva fifteen minutes ago: "The negotiations are on hold. The North Koreans didn't like the size of everyone's flags at the table." Golly. C.J. blinks, sighs heavily, and shakes her head slightly. "Good night, sir." The piece Jai Yung Ahn played during rehearsal for Jed begins playing, as Jed lies on the couch, staring ahead. I feel like I should find this a lot more moving than I do.