He lets Faolan walk past him on into the the house. He knows where the living area is after all, they've sat there before drinking. Lily pads after Faolan, tail swishing up over her back as she fusses about his feet, and Lancelot follows a second later -- sweeping past into the kitchen to turn down the heat on something and the extractor fan so he can hear better. One minute he mouths, with an apologetic wince, before going back into a flurry of conversation -- frowning in thought and shaking his head about whatever the reply he gets is. A minute later his body language seems to slouch in something like resigned irritation and he barely suppresses an eye roll, lets go of the ladle he was using as he gestures vaguely along with a last reply before seeming to come to an abrupt halt and hang up. He lets the phone drop from his shoulder, catches it and sets it aside as he goes back to stirring for a second before recovering the pan.

"You should have told me you were coming. Are you hungry? There should be enough here for two if you don't object to pasta."