Lia waved off his apology about the drink. There would be plenty of that at the after party, and besides that, she sensed the conversation was going to take a serious turn. The sense of sadness and loss she felt coming from him was overwhelming even before he spoke -- so much so that she ached for him. She nodded, quietly attentive as she listened to Luc's story of loss. It was a particular brand of pain she'd never experienced, and she was grateful for that, but the suffering was clear in everything from Luc's voice to his body language to the way he drank his whisky. All these signs and something else -- some powerful force gripping her, as if his pain was her own, once he started talking about it in earnest, overtook her for a moment, but she worked to focus on what he was telling her.
His judicious use of pronouns made her suspect that the loved one in question had been a man, but it was ultimately just another detail, like what neighborhood they might have lived in or what color hair he'd had. It didn't make a loss any easier or harder to cope with, though in some senses, it could make things logistically more difficult.
"I'm sorry, Luc," she said softly and sincerely. "I can't imagine how painful that must have been for you; how painful it must continue to be." She reached out across the bar and put her hand over his, giving a squeeze.
"In any case, there's no shame in needing someone to talk to. Most people would benefit from seeing a therapist for a while at some point in their lives," she told him with a little half-smile. "I mean, technically, that's kind of what I do."