Faolan has only taken a few steps away, although he slows at the tone of the other man's voice. The set of his shoulders is stiff, awkward. He's obviously uncomfortable, obviously embarrassed. He obviously doesn't really know what to do with himself and the shitty gift that he's brought the other man, knowing that he wouldn't appreciate the thing (who would, really?). The fact that Lancelot still wants him to stay puzzles him. Enough to make him pause.

He turns to glance back at the other man, his eyes guarded, wary. Like a stray dog trying to figure out whether this is something he can trust or not. The analogy really isn't that far off, all things considered. After a moment's pause, although Faolan does not step back towards the table, not yet anyway, he does hover there in the threshold of Lancelot's kitchen, and speak up to say, "You've had enough scares this evening as it is without subjecting yourself to my flat."