"That's okay," he reassured before offering a nudge. "Hey, I gotta say that my old home had a beautiful view of the ocean. I miss it, sure, but not enough to have stayed," he admitted before shrugging it off. "Of course I would wish to have some extravagant home, lined with beautiful marble statues and flowers. The thing is, I know that isn't my sort of thing. I don't know if I'd be able to handle that sort of life anyway."

Shrugging it off once again, he briefly cracked his back with a grunt. It was starting to get to him, the whole 'carrying heavy bodies across the city' sort of thing, though he knew he could always use it to at least manipulate Joseph for a bit, hiding his grin.

"You know, I'm doing quite a bit for you. Risking getting hanged and whatnot. I think the least you could do is help with m'bones," he suggested slowly as he rubbed his back with a dramatic sigh. "I'm only 19, mate. I would love a proper massage, or perhaps a nice soak... though I don't want to ask too much from you,."
 
While he wasn't forcing Ricky to fetch bodies for him, the situation instantly reminded of himself and his father. Growing up, the man had, for his own amusement, made Joseph lug about heavy stones, claiming it would make him strong and that he could always look back and say he had worked hard his whole life. Inevitably, it only made the young boy go to bed at night with his whole body aching. Hearing Ricky complain (however playfully) that he was in pain did cause some guilt, though perhaps far more than Ricky could have anticipated.

After all, any similarity Joseph saw between himself and his father would only cause him to hate himself.

"...You shouldn't do it anymore then. If it's hurting you, don't do it. I should have made that clear, that's it's your choice-- I'm not forcing you. I... didn't mean to bring you any harm, Ricky. You can take a bath when we get to my home and... and then you should stop bringing the bodies. I can find someone else who's older and stronger, I... should never have accepted that you'd be able to do this."
 
“I’m only teasing, Joseph,” he snorted, rolling his eyes with a smile at the clear, genuine care. “I can handle it, relax. I did more work at the cannery, some old bodies aren't going to be the death of me. I'm not going to stop, especially when not only the money is doing well but it gives me an excuse to see you," he charmingly purred as he kicked up some fallen leaves, humming quietly in the moonlight.

"Though I would still appreciate a nice rub on the 'ol muscles," he admitted with a wiggle of his brows. "Let's just focus on a hot meal, though. Mmm... I'm incredibly excited if I'm to be honest. Plus I want to help you out. I could always just make it myself but if you insist."
 
"I want to do it. You look awful, Ricky. You need rest, a hot meal and a bath. And a... massage if you insist. Who am I to tell you what you think your body needs?" He drawled in reply, hiding his smile as he hurried along the path. Flirting was never his strong point - he felt awkward even when he was drunk. That said, he knew how to flirt and he could recognise when he was being flirted with. Ricky's charming hints weren't going unnoticed, so surely it was only fair to offer one or two himself?

He did stop the playful comments upon reaching his home; a grand house that didn't look out of place along the street it was situated in. There were politicians and bankers living as his neighbours next door and down the road, so the house reflected the area it was based in. For one person, it was almost too large, and Joseph knew that. However, he liked his space and he never felt particularly lonely in the home.

That said, it was dawning on him how much he was looking forward to having someone stay over; especially someone he was growing more fond of.

"Home sweet home. It's... nice, I suppose," he admitted as he hung his coat up on the rack, taking in the warm hallway. "My maids light the fire before they leave for the night so I return to a toasty home. It's nice of them, really-- let's get you to the kitchen. I hardly cook for myself but I can try and make you something."
 
Just staring up at the house made Ricky's jaw drop, his eyes scanning every inch of the outside curiously. Hurrying alongside the other once realizing he would be left out on the street, his amazement only grew once feeling the warmth that radiated through the hallway and the intricate designs of the wallpaper spread throughout the home. Running his hand along the wooden stairs he passed by, he had to take a deep breath to stop his sudden dizziness. It was all too much, especially compared to his small little two bedrooms he shared with his family.

"Well, you're... very good at decorating," he commented to at least say something rather than just be left in awe. Blinking a bit, he shrugged it all off casually before moving to set his own coat up neatly, admiring himself in the mirror despite his blackened eye and generally beat-up body underneath. "Yeah, yeah! The stew! Now, my memory isn't the best it could be but I'm sure I can remember m'mum's recipe," he reassured as he waved his hand dismissively.
 
Even though he was proud of his house and the improvements he had made to it after his parents left, he didn't want to hear how nice it was. It would only make him feel guilty, so he was thankful that Ricky didn't go overboard with the compliments. With that, he smiled politely and gestured him to follow as he moved down a corridor or two to find the large kitchen. It was too large to accommodate one person, but he would always say to friends that it would come in handy when he had a wife and a family one day.

He had no intentions to actually have one, but it shut up their questions about having such a large house for a single person anyway.

"It's just vegetables and meat thrown in a pot with water, right? I don't know, we'll figure it out," he laughed, rolling his sleeves up as he glanced around. "I don't really know where anything is, my cooks do this for me-- we'll work this out, hm? It'll be... a fun experience."
 
“Now I don’t remember the exact measurements and whatnot but we’ll try our best,” he reassured with a laugh. “Oh, my mother is rolling in her grave right now, going and bastardizing her favorite meal,” he He snorted before hopping ip to sit on the counter, a finger to his lips in thought.

“So first you’ll need some broth and some flank steak,” he began slowly as he tried to recall his childhood. “Some carrots, potatoes and celery, too,”
 
Joseph was often cool under pressure, but he was growing more annoyed with himself the more he realised that he had no real idea where things were in his own kitchen. He vaguely noted how bad that was. He might have cooks to do that sort of thing for him, but he had also always criticised his mother for not knowing where things were, her excuse being that she never needed to. Yet, Joseph was now the exact same way, and it made him feel awful.

"...It won't be the same as your mother's, I can guarantee you that. But it'll be a hot and... edible meal, at least." Joseph laughed as he calmly set out the ingredients, somehow finding them all without wasting too much time. "Next time, let my cook prepare something. I can at least use the stove to warm things up."
 
“I know you’ll try your best,” he reassured as he leaned back, watching the other scamper with a wide grin. It felt empowering, seeing someone so much more above him fail so hilariously. With a wicked grin, he simply watched before deciding to give him some advice.

“Well, you have to cook the meat first and add all the other ingredients to simmer in,” he explained, moreso off the top of his head. “They need to be soft and mushy. Oh, with some beef stock as well - you sure you can handle it.”
 
"I can't handle it, this is-- I can't cook. It's not my thing. I cut cadavers open; I don't cut vegetables. I... can't you do this? I know I was insistent on you relaxing, but I'm sure you can relax later on after your bath? I... know I also said I wanted to have my bedroom to myself, but maybe I'd be willing to offer my bed up to share with you if you make this stew for us? I... really can't do this," he relented, having no problem admitting what he was in over his head, or when he was faced with a task he knew he couldn't follow through. Unlike his friends, he knew he had flaws and he wasn't so big-headed that he refused to admit them.

Cooking really wasn't a talent of his, and rather than ruin the meal and waste ingredients, it was much easier for everyone involved if Ricky took over.

"I don't want to ruin this and leave you going hungry," he sighed, moving to the table with his sleeves now back down. "...Maybe I can bake you something? Maybe I'd be better at desserts. My mother once made an apple crumble herself when our chef was ill. If she could do it, so can I. This stew is just... too much for me to do right now."
 
Rolling his eyes, he hopped from the counter. He began to cut the vegetables skillfully, his hands moving quickly as he did without a single chance of knocking himself. Since he was the youngest, he didn’t have much else to do than spend time with his mother and if there was anything his mother could do phenomenally, it was cook even with their limited income.

“It’s cute, seeing you be so bad at this,” he admitted as he slid the vegetables to the side to then cut the beef, humming quietly. “I’m mediocre at everything, so I won’t give it justice but I’m going to try my hardest. Can you start the fireplace? It tastes the best whilst simmering under flames. The beef can cook separately.”
 
"Were you close to your mother, then? We don't have to discuss it, of course we don't, but I admit I'm jealous you had a close relationship with her. I barely knew mine. I just... like you said, we should get to know one another, and I think knowing about your parents is a good start," he admitted as he heaved himself up and strode to the fireplace within the kitchen, specifically used for boiling water or, as in this instance, cooking the stew.

"...I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I know some people don't like discussing parents. I don't, not really, but I'm happy to if it allows you to know me better, hm?"
 
“We were close. Very.” He replied quietly as he slid the vegetables in the pot along with the beef stock. “My father and brothers worked long hours at the cannery and I was her last little boy so she focused a lot on me most days. It gave us both something to do whilst the family was gone. I remember distinctly, her worrying over me whenever I would tumble close to the cliff of scratched my arm, fearing that I would lose a limb or get ill. I never did, though,” he admitted proudly as he began to cut through the beef.

“My mother got older and so did I, and eventually I had to work alongside my brothers. That left her alone and one day she became sick while we were out at work. My father couldn’t stay at home so I did, taking care of her. Not much later, she died. That’s when I decided I didn’t want to stay in Ireland anymore. I left a note and just scampered off. I can imagine my father ranting on how I’m a coward for leaving. He was a stern man, though I suppose all fathers are like that,” he explained before looking up to take Joseph in. “It’s fine. My mother was the only reason I stayed anyway. Once that was cut, I... don’t regret coming here... especially since I was able to meet you.”
 
"...I'm glad you came here. Obviously I am, for many reasons. Ordinarily, we'd never have got to know one another, so... it sounds awful that I'm saying this, but the lack of cadavers at the school at least brought us together. It's not the conventional way to meet new friends, but I'd by lying if I said I wasn't thankful that it happened. It's my livelihood, but I think we work well enough as a team to make sure that the cadavers keep coming in," he decided, doing his best to move past the talk of the other's mother, solely because he didn't know if it would make him too emotional. He didn't really want to see Ricky breakdown and cry, mostly because he never knew how to deal with people in those situations.

"And your life isn't too bad, is it? I know you're not living in luxury, but... you get paid good money by me, and... you can always sleep here if you run out of money to pay the tavern, Ricky."
 
“Oh, I’m not worried,” he reassured, his blank expression immediately springing to a grin at the mention of his current situation. “As long as I have a blanket and some proper, hot food, I can manage. Hell, sleeping on the streets doesn’t sound too bad, does it? If things come to it, I could always ask my Father to sleep in the church down the way,” he reassured, waiving the other off with a chuckle.

“I’m hardier than I look. Sure, I get beat up now and then but it ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle. Some people would call that being stubborn, I call it being ‘independent’,” he teased with a wiggle of his brow before sliding the beef into a pan to slip into the oven.

“Now, what about you? I don’t mean to sound rude but I doubt you built up this home from the ground up. Nothin’ to be ashamed of, Joseph,” he reassured before leaning back. “Now we wait, of course.”
 
"I'm not ashamed, I'm vocal about the opportunities I've been given. I'm also aware that I'd probably fail to defend myself as good as you in a fight-- but I wouldn't say I'd be terrible. I have no experience, but I'd like to think I'm relatively strong; strong enough to defend myself for a few minutes, at least. My father made sure I'd be strong, even if his methods weren't... easy to handle as a child. He used to make me carry sacks of rocks and things, up and down the garden until it got dark and he wanted something to eat. I'm sure that 'training', if you can call it that, will put me in good stead if I ever got into a fight," he laughed, glancing momentarily out of the window to the very garden he had mentioned. He didn't like going out there for the very reason that it provoked bad memories for him; same with the basement, where his father had often encouraged him to do similar activities. Rather than make him proud of the hard work he put in, he looked back on it with a frown at how horrible his whole childhood was.

Rather than go into it and bring a dampener on the evening, he quickly smiled and forced a change in conversation.

"I have plenty of books here in my own little library; books that aren't confined to medical science. I have fiction books, poetry anthologies, histories... You said you liked reading, so you can take your pick. Call it a gift from me as a reward for your hard work with the digging and whatnot."
 
“Oh, Joseph, you don’t hve to do that!” He quicklyreplied, genuine shock on his face as he pushed off the counter to wander back to the older man’s side. “You’re giving me way too much, seriously. If you keep doing this, I’ll feel too spoiled and I don’t have much to give back in return.”

As he spoke, he dared to wrap an arm around the other with a smirk. The fact that he could get as close as he wanted to now that they were in private made him take up the opportunity to get affectionate as soon as possible, daring to even offer a soft kiss along the other’s neck.

“That being said, I do need some new reading material,” he murmured. “You can only read the Bible so many times before it gets boring. I find your whole science thing intriguing, actually.”
 
"You read the Bible? Do you believe in God and Jesus and whatnot? I'm not judging, I wouldn't dream of it, but... I suppose that's another difference between us. I find the whole notion hard to believe. I'm a man of science; of fact. It's hard to believe in unsubstantiated, for lack of a better word, stories," he mumbled, unable to hold back on his opinion - but then again, he decided there was no need to. If Ricky was insistent upon getting to know him, he shouldn't hold back on something he was serious about, right?

"...But if you believe, that's fine too. I'm not going to think any less of you just because our beliefs contradict one another. I take a lot of heat for my opinion on religion, you know? I'm fine if you decide you hate me for it; a lot of people do."
 
“Well, I was raised Catholic. M’mum actually gave me this real pretty rosary for a birthday, said it was her mother’s. My ‘pa made fun of me since it had pearls and flowers and whatnot, saying it was too girly. I still have it, in fact, neatly in my bag,” he admitted with a shrug.

“It helps, y’know? The idea of some higher being looking out for me. It helps with the loneliness. I guess that sounds pretty pathetic, but hey - I don’t like to be alone for too long. Never alone when God is there,” he explained before snorting at how lame it all sounded. “I gotta day, it’s hard to not feel like shit sometimes at the thought, you know? My preacher was very demanding.”
 
As he had promised, he didn't think any less of the other for his beliefs. Sure, he didn't share them, but it took all sorts of people to make the world go around. Some of his friends were atheist, and they seemed to believe that anyone who was religious was an idiot. Admittedly, Joseph did think that believers like Ricky were clinging to words written in some old book that really held no evidence within them, but he wasn't going to ruin a budding relationship - especially not when Ricky seemed to take comfort in his religion. Joseph wasn't so cold-hearted that he would ruin that for him.

"...No, I understand. I... personally don't believe in it, but I... understand the appeal," he smiled, choosing to be gentle and understanding when he quite easily could have been harsh and stubborn. It just wasn't worth doing so when an argument would possibly arise and ruin what they had going on. "It's a hard topic, isn't it? Like politics. I've learned never to discuss either, it just causes acrimony."