Joel ignores Ellie as she jumps off the couch, protests, argues that they can't leave, that they're on the back of a turtle. Yeah, right. A fucking turtle. A fucking turtle, where his daughter is alive and Tess is alive, and--
Nope. He hefts one strap of his backpack onto his shoulder, slips his arm through the other. Shrugs the back onto his shoulders. They're leaving. His mind is all made up. They're leaving. End of fucking story.
As Ellie argues that they're trapped here, that she thought he'd be glad to be away from the infection, Joel reels around on her, eyes flashing angrily.
"We are leaving!" He slashes his hand through the air; a sharp, terse motion to tell her to quit arguing with him. "End of story. Now, get movin'. We're gettin' your stuff and gettin' the hell outta here."
no subject
Nope. He hefts one strap of his backpack onto his shoulder, slips his arm through the other. Shrugs the back onto his shoulders. They're leaving. His mind is all made up. They're leaving. End of fucking story.
As Ellie argues that they're trapped here, that she thought he'd be glad to be away from the infection, Joel reels around on her, eyes flashing angrily.
"We are leaving!" He slashes his hand through the air; a sharp, terse motion to tell her to quit arguing with him. "End of story. Now, get movin'. We're gettin' your stuff and gettin' the hell outta here."