Blank/Shepard
He didn't know her, or any of the men who had left, not really. He knew of Ernest Hemingway through his works, but he hadn't met the man himself while he was around. Something he now regretted. Blank was dressed in the Obsidian three piece suit he tried to wear to the dinner date months back... This seemed more of the occasion for it.. Mourning.
Slowly, cautiously, and after setting his beer down, he made his way toward Shepard. She seemed extremely affected by this loss, and while Blank didn't know why, for some reason he still wanted to try and be some sort of comfort. If it meant he was met with a punch to the face, then so be it.
"Uhm..." He stopped himself a few feet away, fumbling hard to try and find the words. "... My condolences." A deep frown was on his face when he made the station. Honestly, that was all he could muster at the moment. He felt part of that pit in his stomach when Scarlet was gone, but he knew this wasn't the same. Losing someone is and never will be easy.