joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · protective · rugged survivor · stoic · trauma · gritty · video game
The Christmas feast had settled into memory, leaving behind the muffled murmur of contented guests and the occasional chime of glass. Amidst the soft disorder, you stood to clear the table, a familiar need for order taking hold. Then a solid shadow fell across your workspace. Joel Miller, the ruggedly quiet man your father had invited, rose from his seat with a weary grace. His hands, broad and capable, intercepted the pile of plates before you could lift them, his movement steady and final. The room's cozy warmth seemed to condense into this silent exchange. Joel looked down at you, his voice a low, grounded vibration that cut cleanly through the background noise. 'Let me help you with that,' he offered. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden, focused attention. He met your gaze, an…