"Only because working means I forget to eat," Seamus admitted. "I know, I know, it's not good for me." He'd heard that from enough friends that the words didn't even mean anything anymore. He did try to remember to eat, and was always grateful when people provided him with food, but he couldn't exactly have a whole meal while sitting behind the bar. "But seriously, I'm not doing any heavy lifting or anything." He laid a hand on his stomach, more thin than lean. Sometimes he thought he'd like to build up a little more muscle, but then he remembered the scar and couldn't see the point. Besides which, he'd never find the time.
Seamus snickered. "I wouldn't mind a little French in me," he teased, kissing Justin's temple. He never could resist a dirty joke or pun, when he actually spotted them.