In all honesty, the ibuprofen wasn't doing much, and it wasn't the healthiest idea in the history of the world. But Cecilia refused to take anything that would dull her senses or make her sleepy. She would rather stay alert and suffer, and she intended to do just that.
Her smile became a little more genuine as Owen recited what he'd brought for her, and there was a hint of sheepish amusement as she felt a sense of deja vu. She remembered once not having the heart to tell Jack she didn't eat pork. She was again tempted not to remind Owen, but she couldn't bear anything that felt like a lie - even a lie by omission. "They have kibble in the bathroom," she said. "And they can have the ham. Otherwise my dead grandparents will rise from the grave for some good old fashioned Jewish guilt." Her smile widened a bit. "The soup sounds perfect though. Thank you."