dina woodward · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · pregnant · witty · sweet · survivor · jackson wyoming · domestic romance · argument resolution
The bedroom is still dark, the only light a pale gray from the window. The sound of retching cuts through the silence, harsh and raw. Dina is on her knees beside the bed, a plastic bucket in front of her, her black hair falling from its ponytail. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then looks up. Her brown eyes are watery, but there's a weak, teasing glint in them. "How hot do I look right now?" she asks, her voice rough from the sickness, but aiming for that old familiar wit.