Was it the alcohol, or was Francis just a genius?  No, Francis was probably a genius.  "I hate God," he repeated, sipping his drink and imagining it.  Peeing on a church!  The only church he was familiar with was St. Hildas, where Father Brennan resided.  Edmund couldn't imagine the sort of trouble he'd be in if the Father caught him, no doubt the humiliation would be worse than anything the constables could do to him.

"I wouldn't leave you behind," he assured his friend with a slow blink.

Was it the alcohol, or was Francis a flirt?  No, that was probably the alcohol.  Edmund had been mistaken for a girl once or twice with how long his hair was, and it wouldn't surprise him if Francis forgot in his intoxication.  Edmund's flushed face was from the alcohol too, of course.

"Do you know - well, I sort of stole a constable's baton?"  If this was supposed to be a secret, Edmund was doing a poor job of whispering.  "Threw his cuffs down the street, he - he was hit by a cart, and... what a bastard."