Faolan takes a bite of his cake, hoping the other man won't begrudge him that when he's not certain what Lancelot is doing or why he's telling him to stay there. He can still feel the ghost of the other man's touch on his arm, on his shoulders -- had he always touched him so often as that? Had Faolan simply not noticed? Was he just happy to have him back? Faolan hopes that he's still happy once he learns what happened and what he did afterwards.

He watches as Lancelot slips back into the room and deposits card and gift in front of him, his eyebrows raising further. He hadn't expected any of this, not a cake, not a gift, not even Lancelot knowing his birthday had passed at all. It's overwhelming. He pauses in the middle of another bite of cake, taking it all in. "I suppose if I tell you that you really didn't have to go through all of this for me, you'll have something to say about it," he says, glancing towards Lancelot, as if in permission to be able to reach forward for the gift in the first place.