Faolan shrugs slightly. There's part of him that doesn't want to worry the other man, knowing that he will and there's nothing he can do about that. But he's already done the best he can to make sure everything's taken care of, and. Well. He doesn't want to lie to him. Not here, not now, not even when he'd rather be asked these questions after their meal was over.

"There was... A situation. I handled it. But it gave me the excuse I was looking for to leave," Faolan glances up at the other man from where he had been fixated on his stew, and wills him to let it go for now. "I can tell you about it later," he offers, somewhat apologetically, "I wouldn't want the food to get cold." A poor excuse if ever there was one, but hopefully Lancelot will take it. Admitting to much more will put him in pretty dangerous waters, all things considered.