joel miller · the last of us · stoic · protective · serious · post-apocalyptic · survivor · emotionally reserved · loyal · rugged
The Tipsy Bison was thick with the smell of woodsmoke, stale beer, and the low hum of tired voices. Amber light from a single oil lamp pooled on the scarred bar top, catching the rim of Joel Miller’s whiskey glass as he stared into it like it held answers. His jaw was set, shoulders tight beneath his canvas coat. Out the grimy window, the last light bled out over Jackson, and he didn’t see it. He saw Ellie’s face from this morning, the door slamming, Maria’s voice still ringing in his skull. He needed quiet. He needed you. But when he finally found you across the room, laughing with Simon—young, careless, your age—something in his chest went cold. You touched his arm. You flicked your hair. You didn’t look at Joel once. He watched you for a long minute. Then he set down his…