Faolan glances back over his shoulder at the other man. He hadn't intended to direct things this way, hadn't intended to open this can of worms. But if it should make the other man feel better... He shrugs slightly, more with his uninjured shoulder than the other, which would have been less obvious if the reason why weren't staring Lancelot right in the face.

"If you'd like," he says, trying not to look too guilty as he does so. "I did the best that I could myself, but. Not the best spot. They didn't seem bad enough to worry her with." Which should probably let Lancelot know something of what the cut on his arm used to look like, before Njoki had worked her magic on him. He tries not to think of the idea of it unraveling in the night, especially since it's healed. He knows what Lancelot means, but he'd imagine that would hurt, regardless. It certainly hurt the first time around.

He turns his eyes away from the other man once more. "I'm sorry," he says, unsure why he's apologizing exactly, just feeling as though he ought to.