Millie hid the rest of her giggles behind a relieved grin, tickled with glee that her cousin had thought her the one in distress. For someone so heedless of her own well-being, Zinnia made for an odd person for her to admire. In anyone else, she might have been concerned for their well-being, but the young witch found an odd comfort in Zin's fecklessness. It made her own, careful, steps feel less like she was trying too hard. Rather, Millie could argue she was simply the balancing factor for her cousin, and a friend or two.

"I don't know what came over me," she claimed and rubbed her nose, it was the truth as much as she understood it. Millie couldn't explain why she sometimes found herself laughing in an otherwise chaotic situation. She would rather cry, or freeze up as she might normally. Anne might have geared up for a fight, while Zin, she knew well, would charge headlong into whatever dark storm loomed on the horizon. Both of them would have thought her silly for it, so the young witch kept it to herself. "But it was definitely not the Laughing Plague."

No, she could be certain that whatever affectation she acquired during those laughing frights, it wasn't any real sickness. Millie didn't feel ill at all, not even lightheaded —though that could have been excused by the heat of the pen. The animals, if they could be called such, hadn't paused their daily adventures for the fits of two women, and now the bony lion was stalking back and forth past the cage fencing.

"That one looks like he's eager to put more meat on his bones," Millie said, nodding to the lion who had given Zin such a scare. A few of the leftover giggles still plagued her, bubbling up to the surface in a giddy remark. "Maybe we should move on, he seems to know you're...in a family way."

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