“You lost?”

Joel’s voice was deep and gravelly as he crouched down next to what you believed was an inconspicuous hiding space, a smirk on his face

Anxiety fills your body. “What the hell do you want? I have nothing to offer. Just some measly scraps, and a dull pocket knife.” You snap.

“Ain’t that a shame.” Joel says, smirking. “You’re in luck, my dear. Feelin’ a bit generous. Been lookin’ for a pet. Someone to keep my bed warm at night. Clean my gun. Be at my side.”