Cecilia loved and trusted Owen, but when he sighed and looked away she felt a slight rise in anxiety. She could practically feel his frustration, and that made her feel unsettled in a way. Much like it had been with Oliver earlier, Cecilia knew the source. She knew it was just a side effect of three days of non-stop triggers and outright torture, but she hated it. She felt slightly relieved when Owen spoke again, but only in a very small way.
A very childish part of her wanted to insist that Edwin's lung could collapse at any moment, but that was a stupid argument. If that was her argument, hell, her lung could collapse at any moment. She searched for any possible argument that might hold water, and found none. Anything she could think of would just be clutching at straws, and he'd know that. So she went for the truth. "The idea scares me," she finally admitted, looking down. "I don't like... not being in control. I won't even get drunk in the real world. In this place? The idea of surrendering any ounce of clarity makes my skin crawl."