When the upper began to speak, Abigail was just about reading to tell the cow to shut her mouth. The blonde rose an eyebrow. She was glad she had the decency to hold her tongue before she completely obliterated what good graces the district had left with the uppers that ran their slice of 'heaven'. Still, she was plenty angry. She dug her nails into her hands though she tried to rein in her bubbling anger. "Embezzling? Stealing? My sister's been starving because the food advisor was keeping food for himself? The miners had to cut their rations because of that festering cesspit? We ... we keep this place running. We..." Abigail was at a loss for words. The potential stripping of the food advisors title was some modicum of justice, but that wasn't the issue. How could he? Abigail looked up. "If my sister dies, I'll kill him."

"Abigail." She looked up as Dave gave her a very dangerous look. "Mind your tongue. Word travels as does the movement of the sentinels. I'll view that as an empty threat."

The miner looked away as she felt her stomach growl from its emptiness. She appreciated what the upper was doing. She did. However, it didn't mitigate the feeling that those who lavished themselves in luxuries treated the workers so poorly. When the woman extended a card, Abigail took it and looked at it. "An ... uppercity doctor?" Abigail asked as her anger subsided. This was huge. The doctors done here were often ill-equipped and weren't as well versed in medicine as those above. Why was this upper being so nice? When the woman told Dave that everyone would be getting the treatment, Abigail rose and eyebrow. "Everyone? Can ... can you do that?"

Abigail listened in silence. She had absolutely no input for the financial aspect. The extent of her accounting prowess was getting enough tokens to secure ration cards and other necessities for her sister and herself. Judging from Dave's look, this was a big deal. Expensive from the sounds of it. The rest of the conversation was like white noise to her. She supposed it was a leader thing. Those who weren't in the know didn't have a say.

Not sure what to say, Abigail merely stood there and stared at the Victorian woman. She wasn't bad. "When do you think you'll get this set up?" Abigail asked. "There's a lot of sick people who continue to work. The doctor's here are too expensive. Obviously, prioritization is a huge part of our lives. I wonder, how many deaths occur up there? Have you seen the death parchments listing the deceased we get daily? You ever talk about that Foreman? People I see everyday - who are ill - simply fall over and shipped off to some processing center. Equality? The charter's a bunch o--"

"Renault," Dave cut her off. "You don't want to finish that sentence."

Abigail closed her mouth and sighed. "If there's anything we're in abundance of, it's the amount of ashes. The smell. It's toxic."