He gets it. More than she knows, he does. Every day it's a challenge to try and stomach another oddly casual conversation with Tommy, Maria, their neighbors-- hell, most anyone in this place that isn't out patrolling the perimeter. And there are times when it fits, feels like things aren't so twisted and fucked up out there. Moments when he can talk about fixing the shed out back and what kind of ply to use for it and not remember jamming scrap wood into moldy apartment drywall while Tess sorted out her business deals to the rhythm of his hammering.

Moments that tip even his thick head off to what a sad state it is that a fifteen year old girl is walking in his shoes.

But he switches it off. It's survival. It's an instinct that took them through hell and back, and when it comes down to it, in this world, it's better she has it.

"Yeah." He concedes, scratching beneath his jaw on the right side. "But they don't know any better, Ellie. It ain't their fault."