The only response to that is Psii's foot lashing out to kick at one of Schuldig's shins. Not exactly the most mature form of hate, but whatever. They're too busy to do anything else.

Taking in another deep breath, he closes his eyes and tries to settle his racing thoughts to allow that other frequency to overtake his mind. At first, it's nothing but a blaring white noise as it all rushes in- images and sounds all without order or clarity or anything. Like waking up, a dozen voices with none your own clamoring in your ears. Psii's jaw clenches as his mind works rapidly to separate it all best he can. It's tedious work, but he works through it all patiently as he can.

There- focusing in on one thing in a torrent of others. It's not Psii's own misery that he can focus on, but the doomed future for others as well, so long as they're connected on way or another to him, and here... Well, they're all connected if they like it or not.

And what he's connecting to right now is the image behind his closed eyelids, of the way a sharpened branch punctures through the gaps of a ribcage, of a tiny little package with its parachute tangled in the branches above both fighters' heads. He immediately starts trying to memorize the details of the place. Whether they avoid it or decide to go afterwards to clean up, it's a good thing to have in mind.