It must show on Faolan's face, his sudden awkwardness and discomfort, because Gwaine is laughing softly as they walk away.
"Don't worry," he says, and there's a gentle hint of Irish to his accent, "he hung it up there on purpose to catch everyone, didn't you Lance? Big slut."
"Gwaine," protests another voice, impatient and irritated both.
"What? I like sluts! Some of my best friends are sluts."
Lancelot is laughing as he leads Faolan through, pushing open the door to his bedroom and offering Faolan a rueful smile. It's perfectly tidy, all neat white sheets and throws and plain wooden furniture -- large white shutters over the windows. The only patch of disarray is a dog bed in the corner, a little rumpled and with a few chewed toys in it.
"Leave your things here," he says, encouraging Faolan to set down his bag. "We can sort everything out properly tomorrow. Come on, let me get you a drink."
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"Don't worry," he says, and there's a gentle hint of Irish to his accent, "he hung it up there on purpose to catch everyone, didn't you Lance? Big slut."
"Gwaine," protests another voice, impatient and irritated both.
"What? I like sluts! Some of my best friends are sluts."
Lancelot is laughing as he leads Faolan through, pushing open the door to his bedroom and offering Faolan a rueful smile. It's perfectly tidy, all neat white sheets and throws and plain wooden furniture -- large white shutters over the windows. The only patch of disarray is a dog bed in the corner, a little rumpled and with a few chewed toys in it.
"Leave your things here," he says, encouraging Faolan to set down his bag. "We can sort everything out properly tomorrow. Come on, let me get you a drink."