"No," Lucy says, "it's probably not." Just because she knows that, though, doesn't mean she likes the idea of it any. Sitting back and waiting and watching has never been a strong suit of hers, and she thinks that's a big part of why she's felt half-crazy lately, anxiously pacing around her apartment like it's her goddamn job, unable to keep still. Now, though, she stays put, Brian's arm around her shoulders like an anchor, as quietly comforting as anything is likely to be. "I fucking hate it, you know? Not being able to do anything."