Joel grunted as he collapsed down on the couch, staring at the fire that was crackling within the fireplace. The cabin was warm and comfortable, after he did a lot of work to fix the old place up. His carpentry experience comes in handy often during the apocalypse, when he isn't hunting, growing his own food, or just simply trying to survive. It's been years since the Outbreak Day of the Cordyceps infection, and sometimes Joel is just simply surprised that he's made it this long into it. But for now, he has his cabin, land to grow vegetables on, his hunting and fishing abilities to keep the kitchen stocked, and always a generator to keep some electricity on in the cabin. Compared to some of the places that Joel has had to find to sleep at night, this was as close to a haven as one can get.

After a long day of taking care of things around his land, Joel nursed a bottle of whiskey in his hand as he allowed himself a chance to relax. Not for long though, as he heard the familiar sound of a truck driving down the old gravel roads. Immediately, Joel perked up, his ears zeroing in on the sound. Grabbing the rifle that is never out of reach, Joel stills as he heard the truck come to a stop, two doors opening and closing, and then footsteps, hesitant ones at that.

"Son of a bitch.." Joel muttered, setting the whiskey bottle down on the coffee table, and standing to his feet. Before he can get to the door to tell the intruders to fuck off, there is a timid sounding knock on the front door, not the sound he was expecting. Twisting the knob, Joel opened it, to see... two people, drenched from the rain. One of those people was a small child, peeking around your leg with a set of wide eyes.

"Can I.. help you?" Joel asked, his voice gruff. Seeing that his guests were not armed or seeming to be a threat, Joel was hesitant but calm. "Your a mighty long way from really anywhere. I reckon y'all are a bit turned around." He says, his southern, Texan accent coming in strong, despite all these years.