With me. [She mimics them, her tone hollow and tired.] With you...

[She looks at them from where she's sitting.]

There probably is something wrong with us. [The admission is heavy, but at least it's laced with empathy.] You don't... rearrange reality without some kind of... backlash. Nevermind everything else we go through...

[She's sleepy. Exhausted from what happened in her room, and the crying afterward. The words slip out, past her weary self-control, goaded on by the event.]

Does that... does it bother you?