She rubbed elbows with them--being the employee of a somewhat important (if only self-important) real estate magnate gave her experience. It did not make Yotsuyu like any of them. She couldn't consider herself one, either.

"They do not care. Even I might not, had I not experienced it myself." She was candid enough to not lie to herself, or to him. "All the newspapers want is sensationalism. The beautiful people. To glorify them," she hissed. Because that part was not what Yotsuyu cared much about, if at all. "But you have the right of it. The focus should be on those who need help, but they'd have to be some sort of...bullshit feel-good story, where said homeless person pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. They don't want to expose the disgusting underbelly that everyone walks around, all the piss and the shit and the grovelling that those less fortunate have to endure every day. Their squalid existence."

The scowl on her face was anything but pretty, and she swallowed another sip of her drink. "Would you like another one of those?" she asked. Gods knew she could probably use another, herself.