Home.  Home?  Had Edmund said home, before?  He felt like gagging.  Only drunk would he ever consider anywhere in Whitby his home.  But he made no further comment on the matter, walking down darkened streets until he was very, very certain he was not going in the right direction.  Fuck.

"Once I show you where this - damn hotel is, you'll always know where to find me.  Just come by whenever you're lonely."

Still, Edmund's words were soft, but he was frowning.  "I've changed my mind.  Take me to St. Hilda's, I can find the hotel from there but these streets are - confusing.  And I need to piss."

And maybe Francis' company was a welcome change to his regular nights.  Maybe he was just a bit reluctant to leave his friend, as if he'd disappear and never return the moment he left Edmunds sight.