Joel stares at Ellie for a long moment. He ignores the pissed off, if not outraged look she's giving him; he just wants to make certain she really is crystal clear about what he said: that she ain't to step not even one single god damn toe outside of this place until he says so.
And when she flops onto the couch - well, that's about as good an assurance that she's listened to his orders as he's going to get, and he knows it. He turns away then, and he pushes away from the door frame to continue storming down the hallway to… wherever the hell he's going, he doesn't even know yet. He paces through the kitchen, fingers rubbing over his chin, eyes cutting across to the console every few seconds. Everything in him is screaming more and more to bring that video up again, watch it, try to make sense of it… listen to Sarah's voice. See her gorgeous little face--
No. Hell, no. No, that's too damn confronting, nope, no, no. With another, angrier shake of his head, he's storming towards the staircase instead, and he finds himself taking the stairs quickly to the next floor, where he stops on the landing and glances around him at the unfamiliar place. He finds one bedroom clearly already occupied by whoever lives here, finds another equally as occupied, finds another two bedrooms that are empty of any personal effects apart from the bare necessities. He walks slowly into the bedroom as farthest away from the occupied bedrooms as possible, comes to a stop in the middle of the room for a moment, lets his shoulders sag. And then, he steps over to the bed and sinks down onto with a weary and shaky sigh. His elbows set onto his knees and a hand comes up to rub over his tired face.
Joel ends up staying seated right there for a long while. Just staring around the room, or at the wall, or at the floor, thinking and thinking and thinking some more. About the video of Sarah. About Tess. About Ellie and the things she'd argued at him about back down there in the living room. About how god damn good it had been to see her when she'd first been running up to him on the street. How relieved he'd felt to feel her arms fling around him and hug him close. How god damn fucking terrifying it is out there on the streets, with all the noise and stimulation and a civilisation that he hasn't seen thriving since before the outbreak.
Eventually, finally, after ages of just sitting there thinking, thinking, thinking, he braces his hands on his knees and pushes himself up off the bed. Slowly, he makes his way back down the stairs; he's calmer now, though in a numb, blank way, like everything inside him has shut off completely. Ellie, he's thinking as he makes his way back to the living room: he's gotta think about Ellie. The kid knows how to look after herself but he still feels responsible for her regardless.
He reaches the living room door and hovers just before it, breathing in a deep sigh, he before he steps into the doorway. "You, uh," he begins, quiet and perhaps sounding very mildly sheepish, "you hungry?"
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And when she flops onto the couch - well, that's about as good an assurance that she's listened to his orders as he's going to get, and he knows it. He turns away then, and he pushes away from the door frame to continue storming down the hallway to… wherever the hell he's going, he doesn't even know yet. He paces through the kitchen, fingers rubbing over his chin, eyes cutting across to the console every few seconds. Everything in him is screaming more and more to bring that video up again, watch it, try to make sense of it… listen to Sarah's voice. See her gorgeous little face--
No. Hell, no. No, that's too damn confronting, nope, no, no. With another, angrier shake of his head, he's storming towards the staircase instead, and he finds himself taking the stairs quickly to the next floor, where he stops on the landing and glances around him at the unfamiliar place. He finds one bedroom clearly already occupied by whoever lives here, finds another equally as occupied, finds another two bedrooms that are empty of any personal effects apart from the bare necessities. He walks slowly into the bedroom as farthest away from the occupied bedrooms as possible, comes to a stop in the middle of the room for a moment, lets his shoulders sag. And then, he steps over to the bed and sinks down onto with a weary and shaky sigh. His elbows set onto his knees and a hand comes up to rub over his tired face.
Joel ends up staying seated right there for a long while. Just staring around the room, or at the wall, or at the floor, thinking and thinking and thinking some more. About the video of Sarah. About Tess. About Ellie and the things she'd argued at him about back down there in the living room. About how god damn good it had been to see her when she'd first been running up to him on the street. How relieved he'd felt to feel her arms fling around him and hug him close. How god damn fucking terrifying it is out there on the streets, with all the noise and stimulation and a civilisation that he hasn't seen thriving since before the outbreak.
Eventually, finally, after ages of just sitting there thinking, thinking, thinking, he braces his hands on his knees and pushes himself up off the bed. Slowly, he makes his way back down the stairs; he's calmer now, though in a numb, blank way, like everything inside him has shut off completely. Ellie, he's thinking as he makes his way back to the living room: he's gotta think about Ellie. The kid knows how to look after herself but he still feels responsible for her regardless.
He reaches the living room door and hovers just before it, breathing in a deep sigh, he before he steps into the doorway. "You, uh," he begins, quiet and perhaps sounding very mildly sheepish, "you hungry?"