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"Cael Macklin Gray, that is perhaps the stupidest question I've ever heard issue from that mouth of yours."

Cecilia appeared stern, even as she rather delicately lowered herself down upon the very edge of the bed, sitting as far onto it as she ever intended to get until the day when it had been thoroughly disinfected. As much as she missed this bed--higher thread count sheets and all--, there would not be enough galleons in the world to convince her to properly sit upon it until the plague had been cleared out.

Perhaps it didn't even matter, given that she was already sick, but her case was so mild that she had not even bothered to mention it to Cael. The cough had come first, and then the fever, but beyond that there was really nothing that she was dealing with that she could not handle on her own. It was so mild, in fact, that she couldn't even be entirely sure that they had contracted the same thing, and one look at him in this state told her that if it wasn't the same, then she wanted no part of chancing catching it.

That did, unfortunately, mean that she shouldn't have been in the room at all. But Cecilia could not bring herself to go that far--she wanted to be around him, and she wanted to help him. She just had to be somewhat... prudent.

Laying a hand on his leg from over the covers, she frowned at him, but just barely. It was hard to stay mad at someone who looked like they had gone to hell and back several times. "Now, I'm only going to say this once--and I can't believe that I'm saying it at all--" she began, "But I am the least important person in this house at the moment. So if you ask me how I'm holding up again, I'll have to owl St. Mungo's and tell them that you're having delusions again." Now she really did crack a smile, before nodding to the bedstand to draw his attention back to the food.

"I know you don't have much of an appetite, but you need to eat something."