[ Toying her fork through the plate of goop, Ellie frowns, makes a subtle but confused, "huh?" face. Mouldy bread? This looks nothing like--

Oh. Wait. Oookay. The guy is just being a dick. She shifts on her seat, throws him a glance that's equal parts wary and a flat 'real funny, asshole'. Which… leaves her wondering what the fuck a yeast infection actually is. But okay, fine, seems he's not interested in telling her, for whatever reason.

Probably best they don't talk about infections, anyway. And fungus. Both are too fucking close to home for her; and trying to come to terms with the fact that her immunity to the infection that destroyed the world as she knew it means nothing, the fact that all the people she cared about who died because of her died in vain, is an even harder, bitterer pill to swallow. ]

Uhh. [ Why the hell is she running around alone? And 'What're you, like, twelve?' - fuck, why does that remind her of Joel? A small squeeze of uneasy panic twists in her chest, which she instantly squashes down on. ] 'Cause I got no choice? It's not like asked to be here, jeez.

[ Definitely sounding defensive here. Defensive and cagey. ]

And I'm fourteen, by the way? Not that that's any of your business, or got anything to do with anything.