Faolan shakes his head. "It doesn't matter," he says, because he doesn't really want to admit to the other man his fears. That Gwaine might have known the truth, that he might have been about to share secrets in front of others so flippantly, that he might have known more. That he had assumed the worst of what he's sure are only ordinary men, sitting out there. Lancelot's friends.

He raises the mince pie to take another bite out of it, intending to finish before he gets his drink settled. "I'm sorry," he says, after a moment. "Your friends are... They seem like good people. I don't mean to..." He shrugs, a bit helplessly at that.