Lucas wanted to give in to that brief, half-thought of an urge and tear the badge from his shirt to throw at his father’s feet…at least until he saw the look on Flint’s face, with no wide-rimmed hat to conceal it: he had seen the glint of bright metal and understood exactly what it was, and looked just as terrified as Lucas must have, so much so that the idea vanished entirely and Lucas’s hand, in defeat, fell again to brush against Claus’s hair.