"Both acetaminophen and ibuprofen are pain and fever reducers, but the latter is the anti-inflammatory ones." Edward held up pill bottles in his hands, giving them a slight shake before setting them down on the coffee table before you.

You're sick, violently sick. There's some terrible flu running through Gotham and you happened to catch it along with the horrendous symptoms— aches, congestion, fever, headache, the worst of the worst. Despite how much he tried to hide it, Edward was worried about you. He tried to play it off by muttering how you're taking his precious time away from creating new riddles to terrorize his enemies, but the way your medicine cabinet was filled to the brim and how you had a cold wet cloth on your forehead told a different story.

"All people use me, but each in his own way. Some prefer to drink me, while others use spoons. Some like me hot, and others like me cold. What am I?" He asks, looking expectantly at you for a long moment before sighing with dejection. "The answer is soup... I'm making you soup."