Cid did not really know where the conversation had gone. It was strange, because he understood all the individual words in three languages but somehow the meaning behind then had slipped away into territory that he did not understand. She looked, sad, almost. The way that his mother looked at him. Only he did not know why, he had not done anything to make Evita upset. Not purposefully at least.
Cid was too egocentric to consider that Evita had other people in her life. Yet, he was not one to take the blame onto himself, in fact, he never did even if it was his problem. So therefore it had to be her problem somehow. But he did not want her to be sad. Cid was torn between dismissing the problem and trying to fix it. He wavered back and forth, never letting up on his piercing stare before he finally scoffed and said, "Yeah, and my mother is an ass, something's up so spill." He did not really care to hear, assuming that it was some feminine problem. But he also did not want to see her upset, not during their time together at least.