She saw the change. She wasn't blind. Her head tilted in regret, "Yousef..." she murmured, covering his hand with hers. Her nails dug gently into his palm, and she stepped closer to him, eyes stretched into pools of shadow beneath the brim of her hat.<br/><br/>"I-...I'm sorry. They were all good people. Good agents. And they'll be sorely missed."  Lifting her face, her eyes searched him. He was drawn, pallid, his face lined with sorrow...and it broke her heart to see him like this. Yousef was the life of the party, loud, obnoxious, well loved. To see him shut down and be human for once...it was nearly as hard for her as hearing about Christoph and his team. She didn't embrace him, but her other hand wound around their entwined digits and squeezed tightly, warmly, trying to reassure him that sorrow and anger was appropriate, and okay.<br/><br/>"Hey. Let's go get those fuckers who did this, huh?" Her voice was soft, but the threat behind it was real. The Vatican was giving them a chance for revenge. They could find the bastards, and kill them. It wouldn't bring Christoph's team back, but it would make sure that no one else would be at risk from their greed and malice.