Sometimes, it genuinely perplexes me as to how Joe sees himself. I take another few bites and swallows of food before getting up from the table to lean around him and top up his drink, brushing my lips against his cheek, forearms resting on his shoulders. "Because you're a skinny bastard," I exhale in a slightly wry voice. "And I get you, so I get you how I like you. Besides, you don't let me grow my hair or a beard. That's irrational, too."