"…You feel guilty over what happened. You still do." Mirajane's frown deepened.
"Of course, I feel guilty. One of my friends is involved in–"
"That's not what I meant," he said, cutting her off. "You…there was a guilt before any of this came to light. That's what…what I heard. That's why I ran away." He tried to keep things vague since Macbeth was also there. He couldn't be sure how much she'd told him, after all.
Mirajane narrowed her eyes, and he could almost hear the gears grinding in her brain trying to decipher what he meant. Then, something clicked, and her eyes flew open as she processed his words. "You…heard that?"
"Yes. I…wasn't told it in words, but I heard." He tried not to wince at the gathering pressure surrounding the Take-Over mage. Another storm brewed, one that had no relation to the weather. The flame shook. It could feel something approaching. He needed to speak his piece a little quicker. "I don't understand everything that happened exactly–I shouldn't have heard any of it in the first place–but I can tell you this. It wasn't your fault what happened."
"Your attempt at appeasing me is admirable, but I'm afraid you're crossing a line here." The words may as well have been spoken by an entirely different person wearing Mirajane's face. Not a trace of the kindly barmaid remained. Even Macbeth appeared perturbed by the change, although he remained by her side all the same. "Now I'm even more certain–you shouldn't be here right now."
"You don't believe me. I get it–"
"And, for once, I'm not interested in hearing your perspective. You need to leave."
Cobra faltered. The flame wavered. The intensity emitted from the woman in front of him was almost palpable. Only Brain had ever made him feel this way before, the first–and last–time he met Zero. The cold bore down on him, the flame flickering, recognizing the danger it was in.
Yet, some light was better than none.
"…If not mine, then would you take Macbeth's instead?"
The pressure didn't diminish as Mirajane tilted a head in annoyed confusion. Macbeth mouthed what and Cobra gave him a nasty glare. If he regretted throwing him to the lion, he could at least throw him a bone now.