Aya makes a soft noise of consideration. His mental landscape is a still pool of dark water with things writhing underneath. If Schuldig wants to know what is going on under the surface, he will have to make an effort.

He flinches at the voice inside his mind. But he has been caught now. He may as well say something.

"I'm sorry for your loss." The words are sincere. He wonders when seeing Schuldig hurt stopped giving him any kind of pleasure.