Faolan huffs out a breath of a laugh at Lancelot's hesitation and fussing now, reaching for the knife and moving to cut off two decent sized pieces for both of them, serving them both and sliding Lancelot's plate towards him.

"I think I'll manage just fine," he says. "I don't think you'll ever go wrong with coffee in my book, sweet or otherwise." He glances over at the other man, the corner of his lips quirking up at him despite himself. "Though I'm sure you probably knew that when making the choice, besides."