'Strict military type' is an appellation that could be applied to Shaw under a certain definition, and Root would absolutely agree. She loves shaking people up.

Root's also never stuck around in one place long enough to grow anything, so she reads some of the pride there and wonders if that'll be her in enough months. Is she going to get domesticated? Grow vegetables? Hard to imagine, but anything is possible. She hadn't really thought she'd survive the war with Samaritan, so she'd stopped making plans, and she'd lost all of her dreams about stability when she was twelve. Having a future wasn't something someone like her counted on.

"Well, I appreciate your hard work. It's tough to find anything more than meat and cattails out there -- I never thought I'd be so grateful just to eat a potato."

It's a bit of humility she'd come to, realizing how much she takes for granted in modern society where she's comfortable stealing her way through life, skimming off the largesse of rich assholes wherever she's not outright pocketing things. Here, that's not an option -- not ethically; not in a way that would still let her honestly say she followed the Machine -- so she's forced to admit she really does appreciate having a vegetable in her soup.