There's a surprised few seconds of silence in the wake of that explosion, though the silence is less brittle this time, a little more tolerant and perhaps even amused.

"Poor upbringing," Zohreh comments, entirely deadpan, but there's no edge or harshness to it. It's just Zohreh's bone-dry humor, her stony exterior that had shown only warmth underneath when it had cracked for Lenore.

Zohreh doesn't want to tread on whatever complicated nuances of handling Lenore's doing with this one. They all know the miracles Lenore can work with making friends out of enemies, and it's already enough of a miracle that the violent, enraged, feral creature that had been dragged into the dungeons mere days ago is now following Lenore around with puppy eyes. Zohreh doesn't dare question any of that. But she knows, too, that Lenore trusts her judgement and her command. Zohreh is a general, whose business is the management of soldiers, and she knows how to handle the difference between humor and insubordination. If Lenore hasn't given explicit instructions, then she will trust Zohreh's judgement.