The weather outside wasn't as bitter as it used to be. The snow had melted aside, showing grass underneath, and the sun was still fondly shining down on the settlement of Jackson. It was still cold enough to wear layers, and your breath would fog your vision. Outside, the wind was somewhat bitter, and the smell of a log fire still lingered on the wind.

Joel was watching from his kitchen window as he nursed a cup of coffee. His gaze never left your back, and he was surprised that you couldn't feel his stern gaze. He had watched earlier when walking down the middle of Jackson to get some extra cans of food and medication that one of the other survivors he didn't know by name had been getting too close to you.

As you came inside, holding the laundry basket of now freezing cold but dry clothes, you walked towards the fire. You had a fruitful morning of doing chores before a stern voice echoed through the home.

"He talks or touches you again, I'm breaking his damn arm." Joel said darkly, "just so we're clear."