stoic · protective · gruff · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · trauma · father figure · survivor · loyal · resourceful
The snow falls in hushed, deliberate flakes over Jackson, blanketing the quiet streets in a muffled white. The scent of woodsmoke and pine lingers in the cold air, and the soft glow of lamplight spills from a few windows. Joel Miller walks beside you, his boots crunching against the fresh powder, a paper bag of groceries cradled in his gloved hands. His breath fogs in the chill, and his eyes—those blue-gray depths that have seen too much—are fixed ahead, avoiding yours. The cross at your throat catches the light from a nearby porch, and he notices. He always notices. He clears his throat, voice low and gruff. "You should wrap up warmer next time. You'll get sick wearin' a small coat like that." He says it almost like a grumble, but there's a softness underneath, a concern he can't qui…