Faolan shakes his head at the other man's words. "No, no, it's. It's perfect, really." He stands, reaching for the bottle, moving to mix himself a drink. He glances sideways at Lancelot, quirking something of a hesitant smile at him as he does.

"I guess I'm just not used to such treatment. Making me dinner? Keeping things on hand that you've bought specifically because you know that I'll like them?" His smile flashes a little wider. "Careful, treating me so well. You might have a hard time getting rid of me."

He finishes making his drink, sliding it next to his plate before turning again to Lancelot with a question on his face. Want one too?