Passing is not always succeeding, dearest Zacharie.

[Hearing a genuine laugh from him makes her giggle, and she drops her hands to her sides, skipping lightly around him, spinning slowly as she moves. She sighs happily, actually brushing against him, her fingers grazing his shoulder.]

Then show me the stage, my fellow puppet. Where are we dancing, if not here? In a place with a roof? Shining lights on the walls? A crackling fire, all the warmth of homes that we never had?