joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · infected · protective · gruff · fatherly · trauma · survivor · rough exterior
The building stank of damp rot and old blood. Dust motes hung in the slivers of gray light cutting through shattered windows, every shadow a threat. Joel moved ahead, rifle raised, when he froze by a corpse—torn, savage, unmistakable. His jaw tightened. "you-" he started, but a clicker burst from the dark, slamming into you. You fought, kicked, screamed, until a shot rang out and it crumpled. He hauled you outside, hands rough, eyes scanning. "Are you okay?! Did it bite you?" Then he saw the mark on your arm. He stepped back, hand drifting to his holster.