[Hasn't it already been fucking established that with their partnership, soul bonded as brother and comrades, pressed back to back and entwined destiny to heart beat, Caesar's pretty damn good at reading little tics that make up the parts of Joseph? The ones that don't come careening with a surprising right hook or a blade between his toes, anyway. Thus, he noticed the puckered lips and the disappointment and utterly and absolutely smothered the need to Do Something whispering in the back of his head, like a kneejerk reaction tugging at him.

Instead, he continues to eat. Agonizingly slowly and one handed, eyes on the clear, twisting waves, hand remaining at the back of Jojo's neck, just a warm, steady, anchoring weight there.] Usually this is where you fill in the awkward, bumbling silence of yours with conversation. About pleasant things and not about how supposedly fast you can get her skirt off. Work, her girlfriends, family. Nod and smile that cocky smile of yours at the right moments, even when it's completely boring.

[He was distinctly, distractedly, aware of hearing the pound of Joseph's pulse, though faint, it caused heat to settle in his belly.]