"It's far easier to think of what is wrong than to come up with a solution," Josephine reminded him gently, stretching out a soft hand to his wrist. When she smiled it was affectionate, easy, comforting. "That's why the Ministry has us to help. To channel discontent into new ideas or productive behaviour. Perhaps we can get the whole community involved in this rehabilitation effort." Her sedate murmur had a twinge of excitement to it, or perhaps it was optimism. She certainly sounded like she believed in what she was saying.
Taking a moment to look abashed as he called her (expectedly) on the sugar, she offered him a dazzling smile, though she had the courtesy to look abashed. "A very minor one," she confessed with faux-reluctance, hiding another smile behind a sip of tea. It was ghastly, putting sugar in tea, but small sacrifices had to be made for the sake of appearances.
"Well then, let's discuss St Mungo's. I find it a bit upsetting that people are being turned away from medical care. I know I'm too soft," the idea was laughable to her, but believable to most, "but I can't bear the idea of turning anyone away if they weren't acting against the Ministry at the time they were injured. It's just too much to bear." Her wide eyes hinted at glossiness, and she turned them, and a gentle crease of her brow, down to her tea.