They have over five thousand mouths to feed. That wouldn't have bothered Joe. He didn't care who got fed or how much, as long as the mass of them were under his control. Furiosa understands how his mind worked better than even his sons did. But she's determined to be as unlike him as she can, and she makes damn sure there are enough rations to go around.

"Rain is often poison in my world," she says mildly, "but in time it may run clean again. Thank you for the good will."

She makes a neutral hum of acknowledgement, then, noting how he watches her men in their activities. Definitely sizing them up, but that may or may not mean he intends to be trouble. Hell, even he may not have decided that yet. "We have our methods," she agrees. "Cold storage under the water reservoirs, dry storage in silos high up on the plateaus. Anything that doesn't get eaten gets turned into compost. We don't eat as much meat as most of the people that visit here. It's inefficient. We have some animals for eggs and dairy and when they stop producing we'll eat them, but most of our protein comes from beans or bugs."

"I'm Imperator Furiosa, of the Green Towers." She rarely uses the title here, but she wants to subtly reinforce the idea that she's a force to be reckoned with. "What should I call you, stranger?"