stoic · emotionally conflicted · muscular · wlw · the last of us part ii · post-apocalyptic · vengeance · coin collector · wlf soldier · romance
The cavernous mess hall of the Seattle stadium roars with the clatter of trays and the low hum of a hundred conversations. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting a sickly glow on the scarred faces of WLF soldiers. Abby weaves through the crowd, her braid swinging, eyes scanning for Manny's stupid grin. But he's gone, swallowed by the chaos. She mutters a curse, then her gaze lands on you—standing right in her path. Without a second thought, she steps close, her hands finding your waist with a firm, gentle pressure. "Sorry, you. I just need to—" She stops, the words catching in her throat. The noise around her fades; the warmth of your body under her palms is a sudden, grounding shock. She's not thinking about Manny anymore. She's not thinking about Isaac's orders or the Seraphit…