The other man was smiling. It made Francis smile more, he almost wanted to flirt but it would ruin the mood when the other frowned. He didn't want to do that, so he just relished the expressions Edmund made.

It was his turn to look sheepish and his smile turned nervous but sincere. "I'm not all that. But it means a lot to hear. And what matters is you're having a good day. You looked so down when I saw you. Look at that wonderful smile."

He looked to the coin and he felt an itch to take it. He reached down to show he still had a coin and he put both in Edmund's hand. "How about you keep them as a promise. We will drink together again, friend?"

Edmund gazed in amazement at the coins in his hand, like he thought Francis doubled them magically instead of returning his own money to him.  And he called him smile wonderful.  He felt wonderful.

"I'd like to," he said, pocketing the coins.  "To drink with you again and see you.  You've been so - so nice to me today, thank you."

He pulled the last of his drink closer to himself, but didn't look away from the stubbled jaw of his companion.

"You're my first friend you know," he admitted in a low voice.  "That makes it extra... extra special."

Something about saying the words out loud made Edmund's face redden past what it already was with the alcohol.  To hide his embarrassment, he drank from his glass for as long as he could holding his breath, and slammed it back down as if doing so would erase the words from Francis' memory instead of his own.

"Are we - really gonna piss on a church?"

When did he last hear anyone be so kind to him and sincerely. He smiled back and found himself staring at Edmund. His joy was infectious and he wanted to keep this feeling going. "You spoke to me first. And you were nice to me too. Nicer than I deserve. "

He was his first friend? Thoughts wandered into what had happened and what life Edmund had. Damned fathers. And his first friend. He worried disappointing him and ruining the experience. "You can do much better. But I'll try."

He rest his chin on the palm of his hand watching him with a serene look then chuckled at the mention of the church. Disappointment came to his face, as mild as it was.

"You don't want to? Well. We don't have to." His glass was empty so he pushed it away. "How about when you're done we get out of here. I show you why I like the rain." Was his offer too much? It already brought his memories back to his younger day with a different man.

Ah, was Edmund's reluctance for urinating on a holy place so obvious on his face?  He didn't even know why he didn't want to.  Damn God, right?  And damn What Father Brennan would think.  Damn fathers, all of them!

Francis' alternative offer made Edmund's tilt.  Could he be convinced to like the rain?  Perhaps if there was a person to do it, it would be his friend.  After a slow blink, he nodded.

"Sure.  I wouldn't mind that."  The longer he avoided Mable in this state, the better.  "You make - very nice company."

Edmund nursed the rest of his drink at a steady pace.  Not as slow as he probably should have been, but he was already drunk.  What was the worst that could happen at this point?

When the glass was empty, he pushed it away like Francis had and turned to him.  Inexplicably, his smile was still on his face.  "Lead the way."

Francis shrugged slightly. "I can't guarantee. I can merely share a little of the reason I love it. Maybe it'll be infectious. Don't mind my opinion, be true to yourself." He said cheerfully and slowly reached out to poke his friend in the shoulder delicately.

"Do I? You make wonderful company. I haven't talked with someone so much in a long long time." Cheri was close but they couldn't exactly talk yet. Soon one of them would cover that language barrier.

He waited patiently for the other to finish and when he was ready, Francis stood. The older man reached out a d bowed in a gesture of 'after you'.

When they left, he boldly walked through the streets even as the storm had faded to a mild drizzle. "When I was younger. I had someone and we would always make excuses to travel or work when it rained. Do you know why." He asked as he seemed to travel down the path to some destination unknown.

Walking was, decidedly, extremely difficult in Edmund's opinion.  Standing up made the world turn and his legs felt not entirely real, but he did his best to keep up with Francis as they walked down the street through drizzling rain.  He couldn't help but frown at the feeling of his hair getting wet and seeping down to his scalp, but at least Francis' words made for a good distraction.

"No, I don't have a clue," he said softly, doing his very best not to drag his feet as he walked.  "Why..?"

Francis offered his shoulder to Edmund. "Lean on me pal. It's what friends are for." He didn't want to just hold into the shorter man. People definitely didn't like being touched without asking first. He did watch though and worry the other would slip.

He brought him to a spot for stalls in the market, but this time of night it was empty as was the street. His eyes drifted to the other and then away. "Because, we would always find shelter from the rain. And it would be like it was just two of us in the world. It was quiet, sometimes the dampness felt good if we'd worked hard all day. And ..." he closed his eyes and took a long deep breath and sighed relaxed. "We would just hold hands and listen to the rain drip down. And wish it would never end."

He then looked over. "I know it is probably very silly, but it's always made this weather feel more comforting and like a chance for quiet time for ourselves."

Edmund leaned his shoulder against Francis when the man offered, surprising himself.  He didn't like touches from stranger in the best of times.  But Francis wasn't a stranger, he was his friend.  So it wasn't very strange at all then, was it?

Quietly, he listened to Francis speak, staring at the empty ground he'd been brought to.  It sounded so nice, but so sad, and Edmund couldn't figure out why.  It took him a moment to realize, it was because Francis was speaking in the past tense.

What must have happened, then?  To this friend, and the quiet damp word they'd enjoy together?

Edmund turned to look up at his friend, meeting his eyes.  "It's not silly.  It's sweet."  Francis would see the bad weather and instead of dreading it, he'd made good memories with someone who was probably a very good friend.  All Edmund could do with the weather was dread it, curse it, cry and cower beneath tables from thunder and his father.

"I suppose it's not so bad when the rain is so light like this," he conceded, closing his eyes.  "It's bigger storms like before I'm afraid of.  When it got like that back home... we couldn't stay outside.  It was dangerous on the fields when it got so bad, but - hah, my sister and I didn't like being inside."

At some point, Edmund's head had fallen onto Francis' shoulder, and he only realized it when he opened his eyes and the world was tilted.  He did not straighten himself.

"Damn fathers and all that," he whispered.  There was a movement in his shoulders, like a shrug, stifled by the contact between his and his friend.

The weight on his shoulder caught him by surprise but he gently rest a hand on the other to help him feel stable.
He told him of the past and looked back warmly when he was assured it wasn't silly.
When the other told him he had to agree. "When storms are bad and the weather is dangerous, I can understand that. You didn't like being inside...?" He was questioning but realization came to him. Just before the words could come, he noticed that Edmund had drifted off. He didn't dare to wake him. He turned to stare out at the dark catching only the barest movement of the rain.

When there was mild movement to show he woke and the other spoke, the taller man agreed while heartedly "Damn fathers. " He agreed simply. "But they are in our past. They can't bother us any longer." He took his hand and squeezed it to comfort him. "We can stand here long as you want. If you don't want to piss on a church we can do whatever. Or I can help you get home. " He offered, his voice softer.

Should the night have to end so soon?  What time was it anyway?  Reflexively, Edmund squeezed Francis' hand back and lifted his head.

"Home," he said softly, "follow me.  I still have to... the baton, I'll show it to you."  The words were accompanied by an equally soft smile and Edmund glanced around before starting off down a road he was only half sure head to the hotel.

Was it very late?  The sky was dark, but it could have still been early,  Edmund had no idea how long he'd been inside the pub.  He was mostly concerned Mable would be back in the hotel room when he arrived, but it wasn't that big of a deal.  She could meet Francis, and be happy for him for making a friend, and then she'd not even care that he'd been out drinking.