Faolan glances down at the mince pie in his hand and then back up at Lancelot, blinking sheepishly at him. "I. No, no, I like them," he says. "It's good, I'm just."

He glances over his shoulder towards the sitting room, lowering his voice to make sure that, even if it's obvious that they're talking, they won't be overheard over the other men's conversation. "I don't know what I'm doing out there. I'm no good with people, Lancelot. I'm pretty sure this isn't news, not to you, not to anyone. For a second there I had thought..." He trails off, shaking his head at himself, then looking down at the mince pie in his hand once more.