you’re sitting on a crate, wrapping a nasty cut from a runner that caught you by surprise when joel finds you. he comes around the corner at a jog and stops in his tracks when he sees you. he’s a good 50 feet away but you can still hear his sigh of relief and see a little of the tension lift from his face and shoulders.

he starts towards you and then pauses, worry lines deepening in his face. “you bit?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but you can hear the bit of strain in his voice.