He holds the book in one hand, splitting it down the middle with his thumb as his eyes dart across the page. The cover is of an adventurer, his face stained in blood, carrying a golden-haired child through a black, dense wilderness.
Rory: "Hey, what'cha reading?"
Rory: "Aah, what kind?"
Joseph: "A story."
He nonchalantly flips the page, without a single look in my direction.
Rory: "I see! Ahahaha..."
I lean my head around him to look forward.
His basket is piled in bread, butter and milk, several vegetables and a bag of tomatoes and… why the hell are there so many knives?