[ God, Joel is hating this. He's hating every single second of this. If it's not some asshole photographer trying to snap his photo or some reporter shoving a microphone in his face while asking him if it feels good to be back, it's some Native fan running up to him, the female ones in particular tending to peer up at him with dreamy eyes while gushing at him or shoving things at him to sign. His palms are so sweaty, his skin is crawling with an anxiety, his ears keep ringing with a hum of white noise from a simmering panic attack threatening to surface within him.
Dressed uncharacteristically for Joel (the suit was a very begrudging fashion choice for the Swear-In), he's trying to keep his cool as he pushes his way through the crowds in the artist gallery. His eyes only happen to land on a kid he recognises while pushing past another person. Carl, he realises, whom he makes a detour towards because... well, he knows the kid comes from a world very similar to his own and who knows if he's handling this alright. ]
artist gallery
Dressed uncharacteristically for Joel (the suit was a very begrudging fashion choice for the Swear-In), he's trying to keep his cool as he pushes his way through the crowds in the artist gallery. His eyes only happen to land on a kid he recognises while pushing past another person. Carl, he realises, whom he makes a detour towards because... well, he knows the kid comes from a world very similar to his own and who knows if he's handling this alright. ]