Lancelot's touch is soft and light and Faolan is suddenly all too aware of the fact that he's sitting there, half-naked in front of him. He chews on his bottom lip slightly, his eyes fixed on the floor as he nods in response to the other man's words, and it isn't until he hears him padding off to the bathroom that he looks up and follows his movement away.

For god's sake, Faolan thinks to himself, as he reaches for his shirt and tries to get a grip on himself. He tugs it on over his shirt and by the time Lancelot returns it will be to find him hunched over in his chair, playing with the cuffs of his sleeves.

"Thanks," he says, tearing open the packet and reaching forward for the glass of water he'd left on the table and tossing the painkillers Lancelot had brought him back with a swallow of it. "For, uh." He gestures over his shoulder, playing with the glass in his hands. "For that as well. I didn't want to worry you..." But he's probably managed to do it anyway, he knows.