Faolan watches that shy smile and the way the other man seems to be taking care of the rest of them and rises to his feet as well. "Yeah. I'll get it," he says. Lancelot usually has him mixing his own drink anyway, and for all he knows, he's even planned this. To rescue him, give him a moment to gather himself. Who knows how he's coming off to the rest of them, he can only imagine.

He moves towards the kitchen with his empty glass and his mince pie, only relaxing once he knows that he's out of the way of the other men. He sets his glass down on the counter and takes in a deep breath, trying to collect himself. And trying to figure out what to do with his mince pie.