She bites at her thumb, raising an eyebrow. Right.

"Well it's not like I can insist you don't yell at them, they're your plants. It just seems rude, if they listen to you, to not--well--be nicer about it. It can't help it if the light isn't as good or the soil as nice in that particular bit of the plot. Plants only thrive in good conditions, unless you put a little power into encouraging them." She gestures up to the roses that are still curled about long brace of the ceiling and still somehow in flower.