"You might say that," she says and runs her thumbnail along the edge til she finds the catch.

The needle twirls, sometimes in a full circle, often just back and forth between the only two letters it stops on, N and E, and she shrugs a little and looks over at him.

"It's broken."

It's not, and she knows it, and her eyes says she knows she's lying.

Lucy rarely bothers to lie very well, though her voice and the rest of her face are schooled enough.