Joseph was a cruel, unforgiving man when it came to himself. nose nearly constantly in an annoyed scrunch, knuckles always white where they grip his camera.

but god, was he so gentle with you. treated you like fine china. voice barely raising at you, hands never, ever once turning malicious with their intent.

even now, his thumbs brush over the sides of your knee. the front of your thigh took a nasty scrape in an rough rank match. nothing terrible, but he wanted to look.