He lets out a huff of amusement, a little awkward, eyes lifting to study Faolan.

"It may be bad for my bank balance," he offers finally. "If I am to keep promising to buy you drinks as bribes. I suppose I would need to keep some in my flat, too, unless you want to keep being offered white wine and amaretto."

Lancelot winces slightly, a sort of self-deprecating expression of apology for the experience. As if Faolan might still hold his lack of decent alcohol supplies against him.