"I am afraid yes," she says, picking up the glass of water with what she's sure is an heroic effort of restraint. Which is to say she just sips it and does not guzzle the whole thing down in one. She's not dying of thirst per se but she never has quite enough to feel comfortable, not with a couple dozen thirsty girls.

"There was a chance his metabolism, it would become stable after the growth, but this was never certain."

There, she's holding up her side of the bargain. With a certain note in her voice that suggests she wishes nothing were the way it was -- but when does she ever not sound like that, really?