Although Lucy wasn't sure if she knew a Chuck or Sarah, that didn't matter when Bruce gave his explanation, one which left her momentarily at a loss, her face falling out of sympathy and helplessness. Contrary to how it might have seemed, it wasn't the people vanishing that was Lucy's biggest problem with this place, or even the lack of control over them; it was having nothing to do about it that she hated, no one to blame and no tangible thing to fight against. A punching bag or a wall, she knew, was a cheap substitute for an actual target. Now, in the face of disappearances that only affected her by proxy, all she could do was stand there like an idiot, her fingers still resting lightly on Bruce's shoulder and the damp t-shirt over it.

"Shit," she said, in the absence of anything better to say, knowing full well that it wasn't a situation that words could properly respond to. She had been there once herself, even the second loss of Jude disheartening when coupled with Max's being gone, and thus remembered well that there was no real consolation to be provided. It wouldn't stop her from trying when this was someone she cared so much about, one person who hadn't yet left her here, whom she still had a chance to do right by.

Maybe it was wrong to be grateful, but she wasn't wholly selfless. Regardless of how much it must have sucked, she wasn't sure how well she could have handled losing him at a time like this, with her life in shambles.

"God, this place," she sighed, disdain and weariness both evident in her voice. "I know sorry doesn't really help, and there's probably nothing I can do, but if there is..."