Joel is someone who can think his way through anything. Twenty years of having to think damn fast and hard on his feet while fuck knows what could come hurtling out at him from out of nowhere has taught him to. Survival of the fittest; and the fittest ones aren't just physically fittest, aren't just the most ruthless, they're also smart about how they survive.

But this, this - this is something Joel doesn't know how to think his way through. Leaving is the most straightforward, most clear-cut option. When you find yourself trapped in some situation you know you ain't gonna get out of alive if you stay and fight, when you find yourself in a situation that you have no fucking clue how to handle, you just run for your fucking life.

"Ellie," Joel booms over the top of the girl speaking, telling him she isn't leaving. His hand is held out with a hard thrust, to silence her.

And that's-- That's all he can-- That's it. He's gotta-- He needs space. He needs fucking space to think about this, and Ellie going on and on at him about how she ain't leaving isn't going to help. Hand still held out at her, telling her to shut it, don't talk, don't even fucking come near him, he turns away from her with another, almost frantic shake of his head, and he's storming off through the living room.

But just before he bursts out into the hallway, he reels around again to face her. "You are not-- leavin' this house 'til I work out how to get us outta here. We clear?"