Rhys would likely be Joseph's favorite distraction for awhile. And he was happy for them. He'd offered the alternative so the younger Kindred wouldn't feel obligated to apologize again.
Connection was important. Everyone else in Rhys' unlife saw him as a child. Joseph did not. That likely was part of the reason.
Joseph chuckled in response. "Not always," he corrected. "I've seen you quite relaxed a few times." He shrugged and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You know now."
Might as well fill in the pertinent details. "I've been Marquess of Hell's Kitchen for just about twenty years," he explained, still carding his fingers through Rhys' hair. "My childe was trying to curry favor with the prince at the time. It'd been nearly two decades since I'd had dealt with any court or had much to do with other Kindred. I don't know if it's because she asked me or because the place was in danger of being gentrified into another bastion of Whole Foods and tech bros. It just felt like something I needed to do. So I bought this theater and while it was being renovated, I called in a few favors from some old friends from my time in Philadelphia to help rid the area of the Anarchs that were encroaching. The prince was pleased and I was chosen as Marquess. My predecessor was the unfortunate victim of a Blood Hunt."
Joseph sighed. "Hardly a tale for the ages, but they rarely are," he murmured. "Kindred politics are bloody, cruel and exhausting."