Ellie glanced up when she felt him release her and root around in his pockets. He brought his arm up and Ellie frowned. "Hey, that's mine!" She huffed and pulled it from his grasp. But then she looked at it, really looked at it. And it looked wrong. Her frown deepened as she examined the switchblade. The handle was worn, darkened slightly with years of use and improper cleaning. The metal was starting to rust and she flicked it open. She could see that it had been sharpened, roughly, because it'd grown dull with repeated use.
"Did I give this to you?" Ellie asked softly as she folded the blade back into the handle and turned it over in her touch.