Oh, screw you.

[But she doesn't leave. Instead, Lilith's still at Maketh's heels, a little more of the bubbly drink in her hand sloshing over the lip when she gestures accusingly at her with it.]

I'll ask you again. What the hell is your problem? I'm trying to help, and you're acting like-- like some kind of Admiral Tightwad, I don't know! Even when you texted me earlier.