"And then just as that problem starts smoothing over she gets mad at me again for the beer bottles! Like, woman, why don't you just pick them up for me!"
"Ah…right." Lucy's face was a blank slate at this point. Over thirty minutes in and this man would not stop talking. Cobra was certain his overly obnoxious statements about his clearly overtaxed wife made it quite clear just who and what he was. Whenever Lucy attempted to intervene with an actual suggestion though, he shut her down in an instance. It was like he subconsciously knew she was a woman, and therefore talked back before she could say something. Or maybe he was just like that. Either way, he was shaping up to be a real asshole.
"Mister…Felix. I think I have enough of your story to offer some advice. First of all, I think maybe your wife feels a bit overwhelmed when she confronts you at the end of the day. You said you have a lot of kids at home–"
"Right, 'lil buggers practically swarm the place." He laughed, or, through the modified lacrima it sounded more like gagging. Probably more accurate. "I'm tired too though, you know? My job's a lot of hours, my line of work can be pretty stressful too. The least she could do is appreciate me when I come home. I provide for them, yeah? So the least she could do is make the walk back worth it–"
Cobra slammed his hand down on the table and glared a single eye into the lacrima.