In that moment, it was the easiest thing in the world, leaning into his embrace, however unexpected it may have been. The more people that left, the more Lucy had grown unaccustomed to having comfort of this sort offered; still, it was perfectly natural when she slid her arms around him in turn, head resting against his shoulder and eyes closing against the sudden threat of tears. He acted nothing like her brother, and physically speaking, was several inches taller, but he reminded her of no one so much as Max as he held her there, a revelation both startling and welcome. Of the two, Lucy had always played at being the older sibling, more serious, more responsible, more focused on other people, but although she would never have admitted it to him — and that, now, was what was so difficult, knowing she would never have the chance — she'd needed him, too, realizing it more in his absence than any time else. She wasn't the kind of girl who would seek to replace someone and certainly had no intention of doing so now, but that familiarity meant more to her than she could have said.

"No, it helps," she murmured, barely registering what he'd said before until he had eased back, prompting a noticeably embarrassed look on her own face, cheeks flushed a faint shade of pink. After more than two and a half years, she had figured out for herself that there was no real way to make it better, but strangely enough, just having someone to offer advice did as much as was possible, if only for the fact that it meant someone here still cared enough about her to do so. She had never been particularly dependent, had been all too willing to go off on her own and leave others behind, but that didn't mean she liked being alone. There was solace just to be found in knowing that she wasn't. "Really, it... it helps a lot. I can't say I know what to do, but this is... more than I could have asked for, believe me."