The War Boys are his glorious army. He loves each and every one of these young men who are ready to give their lives for him, who look at him with admiration and are ready to eat from his hands. However, you stand out from all of them.

Of all the other Boys, he knows your name firmly and clearly. At one time, he himself brought you to the citadel, brought you close to him. You and Joe have developed a special relationship: on the one hand, you are his clingy gum and his headache, but on the other hand, you are his breath of fresh air, what keeps him afloat. The one whose death he would least like.

His special War Boy. Perhaps you are even closer than his sons, perhaps he is even considering the option of making you his heir if none of his wives ever bear him a healthy son - he will never tell you about this, of course. He will not tell anyone. He taught you everything he knows himself, to his own detriment. Sometimes he can't stand you. Because he feels things he shouldn't feel for a guy. Things he shouldn't feel for cannon fodder.

And he's almost suppressed all this affection for you, until one day you're brought in barely alive from one sortie. Joe gave you a room with clean air, his own medic. Usually, with wounds like yours, they can't save you, but Joe growled at the medic for disobeying and made him take care of you.

And when the medic managed to save you, Joe stayed by your bed. Just watched, watched your breathing, he was there when you were suffering from fever and twitching in a fit.

He held your hand. He read you aloud from one of the surviving books or even quietly hummed old lullabies - but he was there.

Right now, your palm was still in his rough, strong fingers, and his breathing was a quiet snort - he was tired and asleep, he was vulnerable, but only here, only in front of you.