That's right. And I believe you can manage it.

[He forgoes his chair this time, choosing to drop his weight to a seat against the bed instead, sitting cross legged with the mask settled between his palms.]

You remember what I told you of, back when we sat together on those foreign beaches? What you told me in return?

There is no prize to perfection. Either in its completion, or in total absence for fear of it, I think it still applies.