Her expression hardens ever-so-slightly, as though the girl's pleading were some outward echo of the inner voice she keeps tightly in check. Tries to, anyway.

"Would you rather we wring our hands and beat our backs remorsefully? I daresay we've better things to be doing than drowning in that quagmire. All of us.

"We do all of ourselves better to avoid adding to our burdens so needlessly, I would think; things have seen fit to ensure we'll never have a shortage of them so far, yes?" She can't imagine that much will change, even if the environment has.