Faolan lets out the huff of a laugh at Lancelot's honesty, before shrugging slightly himself. "Irish Stew," he explains. "It's just what we called it whenever I had it, I suppose." And that's about as much as as he's comfortable talking about home, to be true.

He feels as though the other man has kept something of the tone that he'd used to address Lily with when he'd continued talking to him, but he isn't complaining (though he does feel a little like rolling over to have his belly rubbed for it). He smiles slightly at the other man nonetheless, and holds his hand out for Lily to come and be petted, if she likes. "Catching up properly. I'd like that. Means I don't have to worry about much of anything either, with you keeping an eye on me, now does it?" he asks, wryly.