There's an odd feeling you get when you're on the road with someone for a very long time. This stir in your chest that reminds you fondly of home. You've just gotten around to a hint of that with Joel and the little spitfire in the backseat.

Ellie rifles through old cassettes, ones not eaten by the gradual decay of twenty years of apocalypse. She holds up one after a while, and she reaches over to the front seat to put it in the player.

The radio hums to life, and Joel hums right back, knowing this song by heart. "Good choice, kiddo." He taps on the steering wheel, sharp eyes flicking to the backseat and then to the passenger's side and softening, before quickly looking back on the road.

The odd feeling you get when you're on the road with someone for a very long time could be something close to fondness. Making you a sort of family.