That suggestion doesn't seem to sit well with Adia at all. Her gaze unconsciously falls to her messenger bag, to the folded children's drawing within. She picks at the lip of her cup, a pensive expression on her face.

"The rebel Cylons already destroyed their ability to resurrect," she murmurs. "But they still have greater numbers. More firepower..."

She looks at Harley again, her pale blue eyes inexplicably sad. "Do you have psychics on your world? People who can see the future?"