Faolan takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he does, forcing himself to sit quietly and listen to the other man's story. To live through something like that as a child -- to lose the memories and then gain them back, after all these years -- Faolan can only imagine. He notes that Lancelot is using the past tense for his parents and he knows enough from his own personal experiences, having lived through the horrible massacre of his own family before his eyes, not to ask him straight to his face whether they had been killed by them or not. But he's willing to bet that the answer is yes, all things considered.

"Werewolves are... Incredibly violent. Fast. Strong. As a child, you wouldn't have stood a chance against them. If your parents knew anything about them, then they would have known. Done their best to protect you from it." Inwardly, Faolan wonders at the idea of regular humans knowing about such things, wonders whether they were hunters themselves. But that is neither here nor there, he supposes. And he falls silent, waiting for the other man to continue. Something tells him there is more to the story than that.