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Characters: Joel and open!
Date: Mid-April through to... whenever??
Location: All sectors.
Situation: Joel has arrived in Keeliai and is searching for Ellie.
Warnings/Rating: PG. Will edit to a higher rating if necessary!

If you want to do anything specific with Joel, feel free to hit me up at

spongebong!

Joel has been wandering lost through the city for what feels like hours.

Ellie. That's all he can think about amid the mess of bewilderment racing through his mind about where he is: Ellie. Finding Ellie. From the moment he woke up in that damn tub of water, groggy and feeling like he'd been heavily drugged and finding himself staring up at a severe looking man staring right back down at him, Ellie is all he's been able to think about. His immediate thought had been that he'd been kidnapped and that Ellie had been-- Shit, he didn't want to think about what had happened to Ellie, what they'd done to her. He just wanted to find her.

And so, with the stagnant taste of water from the tunnel still in his mouth, in his throat, with the mental image of frantically applying compressions to Ellie's chest while she lay lifeless on the wet, water-logged ground, as his strength slowly began to return to him and the heavy fog began lifting from his mind, he started to fight. He weren't gonna listen to any bullshit about some great evil or some asshole called Malicant. He needed to find Ellie, god damn it.

Where is she? The girl? he'd managed to demand, his voice weak and croaky as he was lifted out of the water. When none of the strange people around him were willing to answer his questions, he began wrestling against them with all his might. He threw clumsy punches, tried grabbing them and slamming them into the wall, tried throwing them to the ground to stamp as hard as he could on their faces. Where is she? WHERE IS SHE? All to no avail: he'd been too damn weak to do much more than grope and grab and listlessly shove at anyone who tried to come near him. He was easily overpowered. Soon, he was shoved outside, left to fend for himself with no answers to any of his questions.

And now, here he is: navigating his way through a bewildering maze of streets and crowds. He's dressed in ratty jeans and a dirty, threadbare blue denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up his muscular forearms; his skin is weathered and nicked with scars, scabs and bruises. On his left wrist is a wristwatch, the glass face cracked, the hour and minute hands frozen in time. Strapped to his back is a dirty brown backpack, laden with various weapons: a bow, six arrows, a metal pipe with scissor blades crudely affixed to the end of it with duct tape, a shotgun, a hunting rifle, a flamethrower and a military torch clipped to his backpack shoulder strap. His face is tired, world-weary, the wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead deep and heavy-set. His dark hair is greying and there are flecks of grey in his dark beard. Not a shred of mirth can be seen in his expression; but there's a look of something resembling barely contained worry, if not panic, in his hard eyes.

It's the first time in twenty years that he's seen or been in urban civilisation. Civilisation, that is, that isn't overrun by martial law, isn't secured into quarantine zones, isn't surrounded by militia, by the constant threat of Hunters, by decayed ruin and despair. By Infected.

He doesn't trust any of it. As he walks through the streets, he keeps glancing over his shoulder in paranoia. It's all too much. Too overwhelming. Too much noise, too many smells, too much stimulation. He's grown so used to the dead, dank silence of a world torn apart by chaos and sickness and terror that a thriving civilisation is completely foreign to him now; much less a civilisation as strange and almost otherworldly as this. Sudden noises make him tense; sudden movements make him defensive; people approaching him or getting in way makes him itch to whip out his pistol from where it's tucked in his waistband and aim it point-blank at their faces.

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Joel is following the script perfectly. All of his responses are more or less what Chekov expects, which gives him a good base for planning. He's going to follow along-- he wasn't lying when he said he wanted to help-- but he's also not going to rely too heavily on his script. If all else fails, he has the Christmas gift he got from the late Emperor-- a bead that can generate a magic shield.

He's not as defenseless as he looks.

"I understand." Chekov is still perfectly calm in spite of the looming and the growling. He slowly drops his hands and curls them around the strap of his messenger bag.

"The kedan residential district is two blocks away. There should be much less traffic there this time of day."

He doesn't waste time, walking at a quick but manageable pace so Joel doesn't lose him in the crowd.

Good. At least this Pavel guy isn't wasting any of Joel's time. Even if he's a little too damn calm for Joel's liking, at least ain't wasting time. "Lead the way," is all Joel says, and then he's quickly falling into step behind him.

He doesn't say anything else for a short while. He just wants to get the hell outta the mess of people and noise; and when the crowd starts to thin out and the noise starts to lessen, just as this Pavel guy had promised, Joel starts to relax. Only slightly, though. Joel still doesn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him.

Once they're starting down a much quieter street, Joel decides to cut to the chase. "I'm, uh," he begins, "I'm actually lookin' for someone. A girl."

Chekov maintains the silence. He'd usually be peppering the guy with questions or providing information, but he decides against it. Instead, he's lost in thought. Once they get to Earth sector, this guy could easily put a bullet in the back of Chekov's head, so he's deciding what his move would be if their interaction seemed to go that way.

And then Joel breaks script. Looking for someone isn't strange, but this guy? Looking for a girl? Chekov glances at Joel over his shoulder.

"If you can describe her or give me a name, I can tell you what I know."

Joel sure isn't going to give the guy a name. Assuming Ellie even is here, he's not going to jeopardise Ellie's safety by revealing her identity. He's just as apprehensive about giving a description - a description could just as easily jeopardise her safety. Joel knows how Hunters work; he and Ellie have taken down enough of those fuckers across country for Joel to know there's no doubt a bounty on their heads.

But what choice does he have? A description of Ellie it's going to have to be.

"Reddish-brown hair. 'Bout five feet tall, maybe five-two. She's fourteen but she looks kinda young for her age. Scar on her eyebrow."

He can picture Ellie so clearly in his mind; everything about her, from the scar on her eyebrow to the freckles on her face. And just thinking about her - shit, he hopes to god she's okay. She damn weren't breathing when he pulled her out of that water, but maybe by some miracle - maybe she made it.

There are a lot of Foreigners here, but Chekov knows almost immediately who he's talking about. After all, he knew Ellie pretty well, though not as well as some people. He's had a soft spot for her since the beginning. A young girl who dreams of space and loves puns.

Chekov glances back at Joel.

"Ellie?"

The way the guy just comes out with the girl's name throws Joel for a loop. And then, he's picking up his pace, taking long, fast strides to catch up with him, round in on him, stop the guy in his tracks.

"Whoa," he says, holding a hand out in indication for the guy to stop right there. Joel narrows his eyes ever so slightly. "How do you know her name?"

Chekov stops dead. Another bizarre reaction. Maybe he doesn't have as good a read on Joel as he thought he did.

"She told me. It's not a secret," he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Ellie told the guy her name? Just like that? Just... told him? Like it ain't no thing? That don't sound like Ellie.

Joel shifts his weight from his left foot to his right, giving this Pavel guy a scrutinisingly assessing look. He sure as hell has got no reason to trust this guy, even if he's promised to take Joel to the Earth sector.

"She told you?" he grills. "And why would she do that?"

"There was a pun battle and then we introduced ourselves."

Chekov watches Joel warily, still unsure whether this will all set him off again.

"I say she won-- my puns are pun-believably bad."

Somehow, he manages to say that without wincing in embarrassment.

Joel isn't amused. His stony expression doesn't change as he stares at the man closely. Who the hell is this asshole?

A pun battle. Ellie had a pun battle with this guy? Well, if this guy is telling the truth, then Joel knows Ellie wouldn't talk to this guy if he in any way threatened her. Then again, people can have some damn insidious motives and can use all measures of deception to follow those motives through.

With a vague, reluctant shake of his head, he steps back and points ahead of them with a gruff jab of his thumb. "Keep movin'."

Joel's way of saying, fine, he'll give this guy the benefit of the doubt for now, until he hears it from Ellie herself. And if Ellie's story don't corroborate, well, Joel ain't got any qualms putting a bullet right between this guy's eyes.

"Aye, aye."

Under his breath, but perfectly audible to Joel: "No sense of humor. Noted."

He continues to walk at a steady, manageable pace. This route is a little more roundabout but it's the best way to avoid crowds. Joel's not exactly great company, but he hasn't pulled out his gun yet, so Chekov counts it as a win so far.

Joel's lack of outright negative response has emboldened him.

"Why are you looking for her?"

The moment the man is walking again, Joel falls quickly into step behind him. He glances this way and that, at the windows they pass, the doors, the occasional person here and there that Joel keeps a close eye lest they make any sudden moves.

The question the man asks him has Joel snapping his attention back to him. He narrows his eyes at the back of the man's head. Who the hell is he to be asking Joel any questions? It's Joel that oughta be asking the questions, but Joel also knows how to bide his time. Questions will come. If it turns out he does need to pop this asshole's kneecap, this Pavel guy can rest assured that Joel will do that first before all else. Shoot first, ask questions later.

"None of your damn business. Just keep walkin'."

Just like that, Joel's back on script. But Chekov's not going to drop this line of conversation so easily, even if it's not the best idea to keep pushing it. They look out for each other here, including Chekov looking out for Ellie.

He looks at Joel over his shoulder, his voice steady but firm.

"Yes it is. You have an arsenal strapped to your back and your hand on a gun. You will have to forgive me if I worry about the safety of everyone you meet."

If Joel knew he could trust this Pavel guy, maybe he'd explain. Maybe he'd tell him a little of why it's so important that he finds Ellie. Maybe he would explain the deal with getting Ellie to the Fireflies. Explain that Tess had made him promise to get Ellie to them.

He doesn't trust this Pavel guy, though, and so he's not going to explain any of that. Joel does, however, recognise that this guy is, or so Joel hopes, helping him find Ellie, and Joel sure ain't blind to the fact that he's got a whole arsenal strapped to his back.

There's a pause for a few moments as he weighs up whether to say anything; and then, he says, "I promised someone I'd look after her."

Simple, straight-forward, no bullshit answer. And it's the truth, even if it's become a hell of a lot more complicated for Joel than just that.

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