Well, he has to hand it to Tess: she's stoked his curiosity in spite of himself about what's behind cupboard three, with the way she builds up the grand unveiling of what their dinner is going to be. And lo' and behold, she reveals... Heh, meals ready-to-eat. Refilled glass brought back to his mouth, Joel snorts around the rim before taking a sip as Tess approaches with their meal 'prizes'. Jackpot indeed. A questionable jackpot at that, being there's never any knowing what the hell is in any of those MRE tins until they're opened. Sometimes it's actually kind of decent, relative to their usual staple options. Sometimes not.
Trust Tess to turn their dwindling food supply into a joke, though. A grim yet still kind of dryly amusing joke. It's really not funny, just like their whole life in this autocratic quarantined shithole isn't funny, but Tess always has a way of somehow lightening the mood with her observational sarcasm and off-the-cuff remarks. Pisses him off at times, sometimes a lot, when she's being flippant about things that Joel doesn't want to be flippant about. Other times, though, like right now... well, somebody has to take the burden of their shitty lives and turn it into a joke sometimes, because god knows Joel can't.
Truth is, Tess has carried a lot of that burden for the both of them over all the years they've survived together. If Joel actually allowed himself to think deeply about that, really think deeply, he'd realise just how much Tess is the whole reason his existence all these 20 years on hasn't swallowed itself up in complete darkness. Pity Joel isn't one to examine himself too deeply.
He watches Tess peel back the tin to reveal... turkey? Okay, that is actually a win, even if that win comes in a shitty dented can. At least that's one little win today. One is better than none. Sure felt like none when he'd first came through their front door clouded with the demoralising heaviness of the whole exhausting day.
"Classy," he states, all dry humour to both the tinned turkey and to Tess' claim that she slaved her day away for their meal. "Almost beats dinner at Bill an' Frank's."
Ah, he better throw some clothes on, he supposes as he tips the remainder of his drink down his throat. The glass strikes a decisive thud on the table when he sets it down, and he leans a sudden step forward to Tess to drop a kiss of quick affection to her cheek. Unspoken display of gratitude for dinner, or unspoken apology for coming home in such a foul mood? Impossible to say.
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Trust Tess to turn their dwindling food supply into a joke, though. A grim yet still kind of dryly amusing joke. It's really not funny, just like their whole life in this autocratic quarantined shithole isn't funny, but Tess always has a way of somehow lightening the mood with her observational sarcasm and off-the-cuff remarks. Pisses him off at times, sometimes a lot, when she's being flippant about things that Joel doesn't want to be flippant about. Other times, though, like right now... well, somebody has to take the burden of their shitty lives and turn it into a joke sometimes, because god knows Joel can't.
Truth is, Tess has carried a lot of that burden for the both of them over all the years they've survived together. If Joel actually allowed himself to think deeply about that, really think deeply, he'd realise just how much Tess is the whole reason his existence all these 20 years on hasn't swallowed itself up in complete darkness. Pity Joel isn't one to examine himself too deeply.
He watches Tess peel back the tin to reveal... turkey? Okay, that is actually a win, even if that win comes in a shitty dented can. At least that's one little win today. One is better than none. Sure felt like none when he'd first came through their front door clouded with the demoralising heaviness of the whole exhausting day.
"Classy," he states, all dry humour to both the tinned turkey and to Tess' claim that she slaved her day away for their meal. "Almost beats dinner at Bill an' Frank's."
Ah, he better throw some clothes on, he supposes as he tips the remainder of his drink down his throat. The glass strikes a decisive thud on the table when he sets it down, and he leans a sudden step forward to Tess to drop a kiss of quick affection to her cheek. Unspoken display of gratitude for dinner, or unspoken apology for coming home in such a foul mood? Impossible to say.