She is. He knows she is because he can see it, and that's the problem. She's trying and it isn't happening. This is beyond having difficulty. Something is interfering—in the back of his mind, he realizes that. At the moment, there isn't space between all the shit running through his head for him to untangle the threads.

Even beyond this room, they still have the problem of the domain itself. If it is a domain.

He glances at her. That's not how the Horizon works. Except, that isn't quite accurate. The Horizon should work however they wish. He's done it: added a window to a wall that another made. He should be able to reform a door that she cannot finish.

His hand drops from the incomplete door. Sighs. "I can't."

No why follows. He can't.