The minutes that followed were some of the most painful Cobra ever experienced. Sure, he'd been tortured and worked to exhaustion as a slave. Sure, he'd suffered under Brain and his experiments, including putting a lacrima in his body that caused various limbs to go numb and to vomit blood. But this? This was akin to his sanity being squeezed out of his soul like a used rag. The longer it went on, the more rung out his mind became.
He knew what he needed to do. It had been the only thing on his mind as he made his way with Macbeth to find her. But the more seconds that passed without him starting, the colder his feet got.
And the more tempted he became.
Because, like so many other times before, it would be easy for him to dive right into her mind. He could tell, despite her dismissal of him, that his arrival had thrown her mind into chaos. The edges of a thousand thoughts floated past his ears, begging, pleading to be listened to. And what would be so bad about a few? He could tell exactly what she thought of him being there and plan accordingly. Or he could even peer a little deeper in and uncover what she really thought of yesterday, knowing just what to say to make up. It would be much, much easier than the alternative.
The tiny flame inside him cowered. It had braved the rain, and the cold, but now it came face to face with a wall. One much too tall to see over, given the flame's diminutive size. On the outside, it was much easier to be in the dark, for the darkness could not see. It didn't need to see, for the things hidden by it wanted to be so, for good reason. Things were easier, almost safer in the darkness.
They were also lonelier.
Cobra took a deep breath. The flame drew itself up as high as it could go, as much light as it knew how to give. "Lucy, I need to say something about yesterday."