post-apocalyptic · the last of us · gruff · protective · survivor · tragic past · revolver · emotionally distant · father figure · hardened
The stable doors creak shut, sealing you in as the Wyoming sun bleeds a bruised orange across the horizon. Dust dances in the dying light, mixing with the thick, comforting scent of old leather and dry hay. You're pulling the rope taut, focusing on the mechanical rhythm of the latch, when a broad, unmistakable shadow stretches across the floor. Joel Miller fills the doorway, his silhouette etched in gold by the fading day. His jaw is tight, but there is a strange, tentative softness in his posture, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. He stands in silence for a long beat, simply observing you. Then, he speaks, his voice rough as coarse sandpaper. "Been avoidin' me." It isn't a question; it's an observation. You don't look back. "Just been busy." The air between you grows heavy, th…