“Hey Caesar,” the consonants drip from his mouth, tasting sweet and like molasses from the crisp candy bars he’d buy on the corner store as a kid. Caesar pauses, hesitates, a little unsure, a little questioning already. The tendrils of dying sun frames him, drawing lines with dying embers from the tip of his jaw, shell of his ear, to the arrow-snubbed point of his nose. A stray strand of hair flips down across his face, dividing blue eyes to gray, azure Mediterranean their form when untouched by sunlight. Joseph swallows.
“When this is over,” he continues, Caesar lifting a brow, “when this is over, come back to New York with me.”