Cobra had never turned around faster in his life.
Macbeth hadn't moved from his initial position lying down, but one red eye was cracked open to stare right at him. "So?" he asked again.
It would be dangerous to assume what Macbeth was talking about, that, and simultaneously it was difficult to get a read on his soul. Macbeth possessed the annoying ability (thanks in part to Brain and in part his own magic) to misdirect Cobra when need be. Luckily he had an ace up his sleeve. "Doing what exactly? I don't remember any of us having plans this week. Besides the usual Jellal annoyances."
Unfortunately, even ace's backfire, as Macbeth did nothing but grin at this statement, the kind of grin that Cobra knew all too well and that made a chill go down his spine.
"What exactly? I mean whatever that fairy barmaid roped you into doing, of course."