On the one hand, she doesn't really blame the rest of the ship for not going along with proper leprechaun methodology (though she finds herself wondering, suddenly, exactly how supplying the ship works - does the Admiral not provide this stuff? If not, why not?). But on the other hand, she feels a ball of frustration tightening in her chest, because why the hell can't people just do things right, why can't they learn--

It's not really her frustration, she reminds herself, though her hands ball into fists all the same.

"This place isn't made for people like you, and it sure as hell isn't made for people like me. We can get by, but we'll never fit."

That about sums it up, as far as she's concerned.