Edmund brought his new glass close, but didn't drink out of it yet.  He was still recovering from his last and Jesus, was it just him or was the room spinning a bit?

It was probably just him.

"Brought me to Whitby..?"  Edmund didn't think that conversation was one to have over drinks.

"Well, I'd say I hate storms, but I can't ask you to hate those.  You know what I do hate, though?  The ocean.  The beach, God, I hate it all.  I hate boats, and ships, and fish.  All of it."  His expression was closer to a pout than anything genuinely furious.

"What's something you hate, Francis?  I'll hate it too, probably.  I'm not hard to convince, I guess."