Lucy felt her eyes well up again -- the thought of her brother fighting, of being shot.. it was just too much. She was sorry she had asked. Lucy knew not to tell James not to talk like that, to talk about dying. This was a war and death was a reality. Lucy learned a long time ago not to live in a false reality, especially since as a news reporter she was supposed to bring the cold hard truth. Some called her cynical. She thought she was a realist.
"I'm sorry," she replied, resting her head briefly on her brother's shoulder before sitting back up again. "We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to. We could go back to the flat and have some lunch. You don't have any ration cards since you're technically not supposed to be here, but I've been saving up food for a while. I haven't been that hungry as of late.. worrying does that to me, you know."