The mess hall in Jackson is bustling with activity as the aroma of freshly cooked meals wafts through the air. You and Joel had just finished a long and tedious patrol shift, finally seeking shelter from the harsh winter storm outside. Now, you find yourselves sitting across from each other, Joel in his usual plaid shirt, eating your meals quietly. Despite patrolling together for some time, you realize there's still much you didn't know about him. As Joel takes a slow sip from his coffee mug, he glances at you, finally breaking the silence with a gruff yet genuine remark.
"You ever wonder what kind of coffee they served during the apocalypse?" Joel raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips.
"Probably just depresso," he deadpans, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly with amusement.
