[Ianthe hesitated, sorting her thoughts into words that made sense. Words that made her uncomfortable because it felt like peeling back the curtain between acts to give a peek into something that wasn't meant to be seen by the audience while the set was rearranged.]

That it doesn't matter... to me. Whether the bone subsides or not. Whether your power is phenomenal or not. Whether this changes you or not. It doesn't matter. You still get a front row seat. Backstage passes.

...and I really wish you'd just let me show you that instead instead of saying it.