One of the things Divorce loved most about her fellow goddess was that CeCe seemed to feel no desire for flashy parlor tricks. She was what she was, and kept the bulk of her power under wraps sheerly because Comfort Food was as practical as she was whimsical. It was why Divorce felt a brief surge of surprise when CeCe knew about that bag stashed in the back of her cupboard.
She was on her feet before she even thought twice, too dazed and dumb to argue. By the time Divorce had made it back to her kitchen and thought to ask, her cellphone was tucked between her ear and shoulder. "I'm not hungry, CeCe. I know you want to help, but--"
Divorce cut off with a startled whimper. She could thank CeCe for the distraction, at least; her hand still hurt, her everything still hurt, but the sheer weirdness of Comfort Food's request had taken Divorce out of her head enough to open the bag with both hands. Whoops.