Myfanwy’s sneeze echoed through the Hub.
“Poor old girl,” Jack sympathised, “winter really doesn’t suit you, does it?”
The Pteranodon croaked feebly.
Ianto struggled into the nest, laden with duvets, and Jack helped him arrange them over their shivering friend.
“Do you think she has a fever?”
“I don’t know,” Ianto replied, “Owen refuses to take her temperature, he’s afraid he’ll lose his thermometer.”
“Oh. Understandable I guess.” Jack winced at the thought. “She seems to like the soup,” he added, pouring another cupful down Myfanwy’s throat.
“Homemade chicken soup cure’s everything.”
Myfanwy sighed contentedly. She felt better already!