Been a long time since I've seen one of these.

[ there's a haggard face looking directly into the camera of the phone. he looks like he's seen better days. he has. but still, there's the slightest bit of entertainment toying at the end of his lips. it's an almost.. nostalgic look. ]

Better yet use one. I, uh.. heh, it's weird to see 'em work in a rundown place like this. The hell's the point in it? Everyone's within walkin' distance. [ and then a pause. ] Then again... I guess I'm using it, huh.

Anyways.

[ he clears his throat. his spare hand comes into play, tugging at the wrinkles of his cheek bones briefly. ]

I was stupid enough to let a young girl outta my sight for more than a minute while I took a nap. Real easy to spot 'cause she's in a medical gown. Goes by Ellie? Kid's probably looking for some clothes right 'bout now, but I'd 'preciate it if you sent her in my direction. It's room [ insert here ].

Joel hadn't spotted any clickers in this "Haven" place yet, so that was a relief. A place like this reeked of a fallen apart quarantine zone. It was weird. Confusing. Relieving? To see a town being run in some form by what looked like normal people caught the skeptic offguard. They were strange characters, yeah, but none of them charged at him with a shiv or machete hoping to rob the items off his dead corpse.

Still, he could never be too secure. That was why he was scrounging about, picking up bottles of old alcohol off the ground with droplets hanging to the bottom of the glass. Bit by bit was collected until a singular bottle was filled, promptly being stuffed by a dirty old rag until it touched the surface of the stale liquor. All he needed was a lighter and a Molotov was ready to be used. Into his backpack it went and he was in another drawer, hands fumbling around for the next useful thing.

God, he hoped he didn't have to use this on someone. But he knew that hope wouldn't answer his prayers. Joel didn't pray anymore at this point. It was still about Ellie and himself, and that was that. Her persisting would eventually chip away at the ice so that he wouldn't be entirely stoic to his other roommates. How would he explain the bottle of fire waiting to erupt to them? Simple. Don't cross either of them and it would stay in the bottle. Sure, Joel. That'll go over just fine.

His head was constantly aching from confusion about everything that happened. Ellie was about to have a lobotomy, and then, what, God decided a change of scenery was the best solution? Replace one shitty town to get another. His headache was well-deserved.

A pair of scissors, albeit rusted to hell and back. Something sharp always proved to be nice. He stuffed it into the side pouch of his backpack and stood up, rubbing at the bottom of his back. Old wounds made sure to resurface at the worst of times. Joel took that as a notice to return to the apartment complex and check up on Ellie, who was hopefully being a good girl and actually listening to him for once by staying inside.

He sure did hope he didn't have to pull that Molotov anytime soon.