A baby face, Francis called him.  True as it might have been, the words poked sharply at Edmund's ego, but he did his best not to react.  When the bartender's eyes turned to him, Edmund started and abandoned another wave, settling for a short nod that finally earned them their drinks.

He didn't need to be told twice to drink up.  It almost looked like a contest of how much of the drink he could fit in his mouth at once, and no matter what Edmund lost.  The drink was sickly sweet, and was thick and tangy in a way his father's drinks never were.  It was nicer tasting, but not by much, and Edmund hated sweets.

"Is it so obvious on my face?" he asked Francis, still cringing from the taste in his mouth.  He shrugged.  "Good day for you maybe, but I've had a hard one."

Hard day, hard week, hard life.  But it was all the same, wasn't it?

"I don't like storms, and... I haven't been sleeping well lately.  And I'm spending the last of this weeks earnings on drinks instead of food, but."  Edmund lifted his glass again, like Francis had a moment before.  "It'll be worth it, yeah?  How about you, though?  What's brought you here?"