"I'm pretty sure that if this were a street fight and he'd gone in with a move like that, he would have been stabbed," Faolan grumbles in return, before taking a bite of his mince pie himself. It's good, of course. All of Lancelot's food is good. It does a little to improve his mood, but he can't help the fact that he still doesn't feel quite right here. Which sits at odds with the fact that he's sitting in a room he'd begun to be quite comfortable in, given the number of times he'd been over already.

Lancelot seems to be enjoying himself. His friends don't really seem like bad sorts. He hasn't appreciated a few of the comments that Gwaine has tossed in the other man's direction, and Arthur seems to be judging nearly everything that Faolan says or does, but there's nothing really wrong with any of it. Just with him. He takes a deep breath, and downs a little more of his drink. Which is disappearing fast, all things considered.