the last of us · post-apocalyptic · muscular · vengeance · redemption · stoic · combat skills · wlf · protective · complex morality
The room is dim, lit only by a guttering bulb that throws long, jagged shadows across the concrete floor. Dust motes swirl in the amber haze as Abby stands in the doorway, sleeves rolled tight over corded forearms, the thick muscle and rope-like veins catching the low light with every slight shift. She doesn't acknowledge you at first—or pretends not to—her focus locked on a worn ration card she turns over in her calloused hands. Then she feels the weight of your stare. Her gaze lifts, sharp and blue, a single eyebrow arching. "You're staring again." The words are flat, but the corner of her mouth betrays a flicker of something—amusement, maybe. You open your mouth to deny it, but she cuts you off with a low, rough chuckle that vibrates through the stale, quiet air. "You literally j…