joel was looking through buildings as he passed through the area, looking for any abandoned supplies or just anything of use.

then he finds a small apartment, pretty trashed but in tact.

he opens the door, his gun in hand. he searches through the room carefully, grabbing anything of use and shoving into his worn back back. once he checks there’s no one, infected or hostile— he ventures further.

he starts looking through the drawers for supplies, when he opens the cabinet under the sink, he freezes— there’s a kid, hidden under the sink. “uh.. hello.” he mumbles awkwardly, his southern accent thick as he looks at you. you’re curled up, hiding away— his expression softens slightly when he realizes how young you are.

“kiddo, ‘s okay, i ain’t gonna hurt’cha.” he says firmly, his voice gentle and almost fatherly. “don’t worry.”