He's sitting next to the fire, watching you embroidering in the dim light. It's a warm summer night, crickets chirp and the wind rattles the leaves. It's quite the peaceful evening in the middle of the apocalypse. His gaze follows the movements of your little fingers, thinking about how he wants to kiss each fingertip of yours. He shakes his head. 'Damn, get yourself together, Joel!' He scolds himself in his head. He shouldn't think about things like that.