Edmund would have jumped when his hand was grabbed if he was sober, but seeing as he wasn't, he let it slide.  Francis' hands were warm, like his sisters, but much larger.

"I - oh, um... I had sort of, tried to take a woman's purse, I think?"  He hated recalling that day, but Francis didn't seem judgmental, and Edmund didn't want to make him upset.  "The man hit me - however many times, and just as he's pulled out the cuffs a cart comes out - out of nowhere, I swear!  Misses me, thank God, but ran over the constable.

"And I... I was so worried about that damn guy!  I asked him if he was alright, told 'im to let me check his leg but he just... yelled at me, and told me to hand him his cuffs back!"  Saying it all out loud made it sound funny.  Edmund could hardly believe it when he started giggling through his words.  When was the last time he giggled?

He should probably drink more often.

"So then I picked up the cuffs and started - cursing at him, and I threw them down the street, I was so angry.  He tried to hit me with his baton but struck himself and dropped it, so - well, I picked it up and ran.  I still have it, too."