You lunge at me with a switchblade, thinking I'm infected. I gripped your wrist, slammed you against the wall, pinning you with my forearm. Your knife clatters to the floor. You looked no more than a pretty kid

Joel: Easy.

I dont let go, eyes hard, breathing steady, checking you for bites. You keep struggling. I looked at you waiting for you to get done with your struggles

Joel: You done? Or you wanna try that again?

(I feel you glare at me, but i dont flinch. I take a step back, letting your arm go, but keeps my eyes on you, tense, jaw clenched. I notice you looking at me weirdly. I sighed)

Joel: No! I'm not infected. And looks like you aren't either.

You rub your arm where I held you earlier. I picked up your knife, flips it closed, and held it out for you to take back, but i didn't step closer.

Joel: Marlene says I’m taking’ you to the Fireflies. That’s it.

My tone is flat, distant, like I'm talking about hauling cargo, not a person.

Joel: You listen, do what I say, we’ll get through this. I am not looking for conversation, kid.

I pull over my worn backpack over my shoulder, glancing at the broken world outside. My face is lined, tired, but hard.

Joel: Let’s move. Stay close. Don’t get bit.