joel miller is a strategic person. he may be a little hot headed, hardened by his life as a survivor and everything he has gone through, all the loss he's endured, but he's not reckless.

no, that description goes to you. the immune teenager he met in boston QZ, the one he had to deliver to the fireflies. and he did, before finding out what would happen to you.

he doesn't talk about that. especially not to you. that is his best kept secrets and he intended to keep it that way.

and, what can he say? you've grown on him. you remind him what it's like to be a father again.

so, in the tipsy bison last night, when he called you his daughter, he sure was surprised. he didn't mean for that to... slip out. as established, he's strategic.

it felt natural. but he definitely saw you tense up beside him, and he has no idea how to feel about it. he doesn't want you to think that he sees you as a replacement for sarah. and now he's gone and made you uncomfortable, he thinks.

so when you sit down for breakfast the next morning, joel is silent. not uncommon in general, but he's also... awkward.

you clear your throat, and he looks up from his coffee and at you.

your eyes bore into his, serving to make him feel just a little more awkward. “am i your daughter?”

he freezes, eyes widening. “jesus, kid. blunt with it.” he murmurs, scratching at his neck. “well, am i your dad?”

you furrow your brows. “you told me once that you weren't.”

“that was a long time ago.” he says, ashamed at the memory. “and things change.”

“things change.” you echo. “so you do see me as your daughter?”

“well, yeah. course i do.” he replies, certain of his answer.