[It’s strange, hearing the confession without an equal compulsion. Belatedly the actual content of Armin’s words starts to settle in. But he can’t be the same as that mindless, grinning oaf—he’s here, clearly remorseful…]

[Before Aubrey can think of what to say, or if she even wants to speak at all, a new voice. Armin curls. She angles her arm around him, as if in defense—but this isn’t a faceless shadow-person, and he sounds nothing if not sad.]

Bertholdt…? [Her eyes are narrowed at him, but she doesn’t quite sound cautious. Of course it’s Bertholdt. But how…?]