There was a chance by the time Rhys wanted to leave New York, Joseph would as well. He wasn't the sort to stay in the shadows and after awhile, it would be difficult to explain his lack of aging. He'd set up a faux buyer when he started, then bought the theatre from this fictional owner ten years ago. Good genes and a natural baby face could only account for so much. Most likely, it'd be no more than another decade before he'd have to withdraw from public life among the kine not in his entourage. If Gehenna didn't come crashing down on them long before that. As much as Joseph and every other Idealist Brujah wanted to have the kine/kindred relations of the Second City, he was a little too jaded to set his hopes on ending the Masquerade and having peaceful co-existence. It wasn't like kine or kindred could manage to peacefully coexist with their own kind as whole.
Joseph shook his head as Rhys didn't take his half-jest in the spirit it was meant. "Sorry, love," he apologized. Hopefully, nothing else would literally catch fire and require a massive effort like the tragedy at the Blue Velvet.
It was likely hard for Rhys to hear him speak of Henry, but even if his sire was lost, his intentions in Embracing the young man were crystal clear. Joseph held his lover closely as he curled into him. He didn't need to hold it together. That was the point of this. To stop holding it in and let it out so it didn't fester and wear down their control. "It's all right," he soothed, pressing a kiss to Rhys' curls. "You don't have to hold it in. You are my peace and calm, Rhys. Let me be your strength when you need it."