It's not so much a cynical as a crestfallen look that she gives Harley. "It'll end soon, one way or another. We're running low on resources, Galactica is falling apart.... and the Cylons have no resurrection, and no way of making more clones."

She forces herself to smile -- she hates making anyone worry, especially someone as seemingly carefree as Harley. "Besides, if I can help get the Fleet to a new universe, I'll need to spend more time in the Nexus by default to coordinate everything."