[CW: Language]

Joe's fists curled into hard balls. He hadn't ruined her, he'd been protecting her. She had said so. His father's words incensed him. Who the fuck was he to be giving moral advice? William Blacke's virtues of being a solid provider and pleasant memories of father and son impromptu games of tin cricket in the Cragg were forgotten for the moment. They did not fit the narrative in currently playing in Joe's head. His father was an old man, out of touch with what it meant to be in love. He was cruel - Joe only had to recall that night in the cells - , and a coward who ran away when things got the slightest bit difficult.

"Ruined er 'ave I? At least, I'm willin' to fight fer me wife! You? Yer a joke! Off fer a pint the moment things get 'ard! Yer no Prince Albert!" Joe hissed, invoking the marital bliss of the most popular couple in England.