Edmund frowned at Francis' words, but he was right.  Mable didn't like him, for some unfathomable reason.

Perhaps it wasn't even Francis' fault, but Edmund's, he realized.  She hated to see him drunk.  The younger held tight onto Francis' hands where they held his.

And now even Francis was sad.  Mable had made his friend sad and he wasn't even looking at him now, and Edmund missed his eyes so much.

He let go of the man's hand just to take his arm, turning him back to face Edmund.  "Hey," he began, tilting his head to see Francis' face properly, "I'll find you tomorrow.  I miss you already, and Mable - Mable will come around, or she won't.  I don't care what she thinks."

Edmund surprised himself by saying it, but he did not try to take them back one the words were in the air.  To distract himself, he leaned his head up more and pressed a light kiss to Francis' cheek.  Only then did he let the man go.

"I'll see you."