Faolan glances to Percy, wondering whether he should recognize the name -- he's been in the city for a while, but he hasn't really paid attention to what he hasn't had to. Which is to say, the normal side of it all. The non-supernatural section of the population. Or was it just Arthur's own personal poking at his family. Who's to know for certain. "I see," he says quietly, nodding slightly in thanks to Percy's explanation.

He watches Lancelot play host with the same casual grace he has spent the whole evening doing, though he is perhaps a bit less steady on his feet now than he had started the gathering. Glancing up at the mistletoe where it's still hanging as it had been since when he had first arrived and idly wondering whether the rest of them had received the same treatment as he had. What the caustic Arthur Pendragon might have thought of that.