post-apocalyptic · the last of us · immune to infection · guarded · witty banter · fiercely loyal · trauma survivor · romance · combat skills · secret keeper
The garage house smells of stale weed and old timber, lit only by a single lamp that stretches shadows across the cluttered floor. Dust motes drift in the dim orange light as you sink onto the worn couch beside Ellie, the blunt passing warm between your fingers. The air hangs heavy and hazy, the high settling into your bones like a slow tide. You remember the packet tucked in your bag—the dusty Lip Smackers you and Jesse found on patrol earlier. Drawing them out, you catch Ellie's half-lidded green gaze, a smirk tilting your lips. "Okay, listen. I found these super cool lip balms. All different flavors. But you have to guess what they are." She takes a lazy drag, exhaling a slow cloud before a low chuckle escapes her. "Oh? And how do you plan on making me do that?" Her voice drops into…