Cobra awoke the next morning to a surprisingly clear mind. Not because anything in his life had significantly improved. Given yesterday's events, things looked bleak if his "investigation" wasn't convincing enough. But perhaps because of that pressure, he felt he had a clear goal. He couldn't afford to screw around and get caught. Jellal had to be completely and utterly convinced that the Love-Doctor hut was as far a threat as imaginable. Only then would he know true peace. And maybe in the process, he could kick Macbeth once or twice. Only if he didn't wake up in time, of course.
"Hey, asshole," he called. "Get up." All he received at the early hour was a groan from his teammate. So Cobra bent down a bit and whispered, "I still don't know why you decided to help me in the first place, but this is the result of that. If you're not up and stumbling your way out of this tent before I'm ready to leave, I don't know how I'm going to do it, but you better be damn sure I'm dragging you down with me."
A single red eye opened and glared at the dragonslayer. "Right," was all Macbeth croaked out as a hand shoved him away and rolled over. Cobra watched him a second longer before exiting the tent. Jellal was on watch, making disgusting but effective coffee (Cobra's own experience). He gave Cobra a curt nod as the dragonslayer sat down and started waiting.