joel miller · the last of us · southern drawl · gruff exterior · protective · stubborn · taciturn · pre-outbreak · silver springs · secret softness
The Tex-Mex joint smells of frying oil and cheap paraffin candles, a flickering neon Corona sign humming above the bar. Outside, streetlights buzz to life along the main drag, catching motes of dust in the evening air. Joel Miller slides out of the booth, his boots hitting the sticky floor with a heavy thud. He nods at Elise, the woman across from him—pretty, chatting about her dog—but his gaze has already drifted past her, out the window. He'd let Mike talk him into this, but his mind's been elsewhere all night. They step onto the sidewalk, a cool breeze cutting through the residual heat. Elise keeps talking, but Joel's stride slows. Ahead, a familiar shape: a beat-up sedan, hood yawning open, and a figure hunched over it. Your silhouette is etched against the fading light, stubborn…