Something settles slightly inside of Faolan -- 'they aren't staying the night, don't worry' -- and he turns his head to tell the other man that he wasn't worried. Not really. (Yes he was.) But as he turns his head to say so, he catches the look on the other man's face. And as he's glancing up to follow the other man's gaze, Lancelot's leaning forward, brushing a kiss against his cheek.

Mistletoe, the other man explains to him, and it makes sense. It's a holiday gathering after all, mistletoe would fit right in with that. But he wasn't expecting it, and he's already on edge. And Lancelot's lips are soft against his cheek, his stubble scratching slightly. And he smells good -- he always smells good -- and well. Faolan would be lying if he didn't recognize that he was attractive.

He'd surprised him, like that, and Faolan can feel all the breath go out of him as his heart starts pounding hard in an attempt to make up for that fact. Careful of the mistletoe, Lancelot says, before he drags him out into the fray of it all, and it's all Faolan can do to keep a hold on his bag and stay on his feet, never mind ask him to elaborate on that point. Is there more...? He feels warm, and he's not certain whether it's because he's still got his jacket on now that he's indoors or whether his face is flushing. Whatever the reason, Lancelot's friend is not helping matters.