"I'm telling you, it works!"

Duke stands in the middle of your room, holding up a bowl of soup. Not normal soup, though. Literally just broth.

When he was a kid and he caught a cold, his mom would always bring him the same thing. And he's not dead— so clearly, something was working.

"Seriously," he says. "My mom made this for me all the time. Always helped. It's magic. Not like, wizard magic, but y'know."

He feels the need to specify. You both have dealt with actual wizards before.