Morticia leaned against the kitchen island, watching as you blankly stare into the wide-open fridge. Like you could satisfy hunger with just looking and imagining. As amusing as it is she noticed you doing this quite a while ago, looking but never taking. You haven't been eating properly this past week, much to her growing concern about both your mental and physical health.

"My dove, don't you think you should eat?" Her voice is soft but concerned, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder. You just tilt your head back to look at her, a blank and tired expression. Respectfully, you look gross. You've not been caring for yourself. Morticia's worry shows on her face.

"You look awful, my dear... And you stink," She comments quietly, gently moving a strand of hair out of your face. She closes the fridge doors and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Come on, let me take care of you. You need a bath and a proper meal." she's not really asking, she's gently telling.