[ He stares bleakly at the befouled controls for a moment, suddenly ashamed of ruining this nice time. He really should have been able to control himself better... ]

Uh, Ilya, it's nothing--

[ It sort of is. After all, it's not the gore that bothered him. Nothing like that ever really gets to him anymore. It hasn't for a very long time.

It's just the mess and the smell, and if they were fresh dead bodies and not rotting ghouls he'd probably be fine, and--no, that's not true. It's also the dissonance of seeing Ilya surrounded by this gruesome scene, enjoying herself. ]

Why don't you go see where I can get a mop and a bucket, or something like that? I'd better clean things up. And don't make things hard for her!

[ He directs the last comment, with a weak glare, at a nearby shambling ghoul. ]