Not for the first time that day, anger coursed through Amelia's blood as she eyed the ridiculous magazine that a zoo-goer had dropped. Though she hadn't taken to reading the ridiculous magazine, once every few months where the occasional slow moment had presented itself, the witch obliged herself a brief flipthrough. Today wouldn't have been such an occasion had she not seen the cover of the subscription as well as hearing the names Barnabas Skeeter and Maeve Connolly. The two events paired so closely together tore down her curiosity and almost made her spit out her tea during her break.

Fury (really she'd fancied herself thinking it was fury, but it, in fact, was an unpleasant mix of jealousy, humiliation, and sadness) bubbled inside of the witch as she made her way through the town to find a safe place to apparate to Phyri's residence. Once arrived, she'd been invited in and seated in the parlor where they were to converse. As her friend took a brief leave to fetch something, Amelia had caught a glimpse of that dreadful subscription she'd tucked into her bag. She resisted the urge to gnash her teeth and snarl. As Phyri returned into the room, Amelia crossed her arms. Then, with an air of finality and, as if she'd discovered something reprehensible on the table in front of her, declared as though talking about the weather: "Ugh. Men are despicable."