Edmund could not speak while he was exposed.  It was physically impossible.  If he tried, he'd burst into flames, like God striking him down.  No crying angels or laughing devils, but a dead Edmund.  All for a quick piss.

Only once his pants were back up and skin that should be hidden was hidden did Edmund feel ready to face Francis again.  His face was red, from running, from his earlier drinks, from this, from all of it.  But, he was smiling.  It was small, but it was there.

"Not disappointing," he assured, pushing rain-wet hair back from his face.  "Just... different.  But not in a bad way."

For a moment, Edmund had completely forgotten what was supposed to come next.  He just stood, rocking slightly on his feet and enjoying, actually enjoying the cool rain that fell on him.  And Francis was right there in front of him.  Edmund reached out a hand to push his shoulder softly.

"don't apologize.  Follow me."  He'd found his way from St. Hilda's to the hotel many times since arriving in Whitby, so this part of their journey was easy.  Walking was still more difficult than it should have been, but Edmund was getting the hang of it.  He moved forward in a mostly straight line, bumping Francis' shoulder every now and again and laughing out a soft apology every time.