There was never anything one could do: this he knew firsthand, from his own experience trying to console Lucy. That their places were now switched was not so morbid a joke, he found, but a small comfort. Always one to put others before himself -- it was part of the reason he'd made such a great spy -- Bryce found it easier to accept the loss if he considered the fact that he alone was affected. It was a weight he could shoulder, pain he could live with, if it meant that someone like Lucy was spared the trouble.

"It's alright," he lied, albeit with no real effort. She wasn't meant to believe it; who would? "I just needed to vent," he admitted, with a short, humorless laugh aimed at the idea of having to strike his fists against harmless inanimated objects to work through his problems. It couldn't have done much to better Lucy's opinion of him, but at the moment, he was beginning to think that might be for the best. Better that he frighten her away than invite her any closer; the already diminished distance between them was drawing his attention in ways he'd rather not admit or confront.