In the apartment below there is something akin to calm that surrounds the others. It's a calm of confusion, of unanswered questions, true, but it is not - for the moment - a disturbed or a frightened calm.
It is a calm in which the others are looking to Harry Danes for an explanation, and he is preparing to give it to them.
He has seated them once again around the table. The ouija board stares up at them silently, its as yet unspoken answers reflected as distortions in the curves of the replaced, upturned wine glass.
And Harry Danes smiles again.