Lancelot may look as if he fits in, as if he's in his element, but it isn't exactly like he does come here often. It's more that he's always relaxed.

Well, so long as he isn't being chased by a werewolf.

He gestures vaguely to make it two, sighs as he glances around at the shelves and settles more comfortably into his chair -- flicks Faolan a wry smile and jerks an eyebrow.

"Don't go thinking I can afford to eat here every day. I last came here..." Lancelot pauses, squints a little as he thinks. "Two years ago, maybe? For a friend's birthday. I just like the decoration, the atmosphere. Well -- the food's good too, but it's nice pretending you're part of a gentleman's club for a little while."