"Oh, Merlin. Oh, Merlin." The tears flowed fast and free now. She couldn't begin to imagine how she could try to stop them, so she didn't bother. The laughter continued unbidden, strange and unhinged, bordering on manic, but she couldn't stop.
Who cared anyway?
"Smith couldn't hex his own arse without a chart and an instruction manual, and he killed Harry? He did it? He did it? Him?" She would hyperventilate, she could feel it, but oh Merlin, if she didn't laugh she would scream. She would scream and she would never stop.
But it was true, wasn't it? Smith couldn't charm his way out of paper sack. Which meant...
Which meant...
The laughter stopped abruptly. Her expression darkened. "Whose patsy is he?"