Lancelot is about to carry on his idle quip about positive and negative attention when.. when Faolan sighs, rubs his face, and something about his tone takes all the attempt at humour from him.

This might be the only drink I get to share with you though, if this is the luck I bring you.

He frowns at that, a touch guarded, and flexes his fingers around his own glass.

"I'd rather think of it the first of many," he counters, "and if you're to bring me bad luck we can make a habit of stopping for a drink afterwards. A little more cheerful than thinking it'll be our only chance."