Eventually, the laughter died and the tears dried up. Cobra rubbed his eye, hoping it wasn't terribly red when he turned to Macbeth, who'd stayed in his spot the entire time. His gaze was half concern and half wariness, as if he wasn't sure if Cobra was going to continue cackling or start clawing at him. The uneasiness made him waver, which was to Cobra's benefit. He wanted Macbeth to feel a little unsteady after everything he'd put him through.

"I'm," Cobra started, "going to kill you for this."

Macbeth's concern vanished into a look of weariness. "Well, that's only about the hundredth time you've declared death on me, but this time it looks like you might actually go through with it. Jellal will have a fit."

Cobra chuckled. Normally, he hoped. "Don't worry about that, neither of you will even see it coming." He paused. "What time is it right now?"

"Time?" Macbeth said. "I suppose not quite noon. Why?"

"Just wondering if they've already left yet or not." His limbs ached from lying on the hard ground for almost a full day. Cobra took a moment to stretch his arms. Was it just his imagination, or did his body, though sore, somehow feel much better now than he had all week?

"They haven't. Meredy is concerned about Sorano, and the rest don't feel comfortable in leaving the two alone."

"Well that works for me," Cobra said with a small smile. "Because now that I'm done moping, I need to go talk to them."