Faolan shrugs slightly as the other man cycles through television channels. He honestly doesn't care about what the other man chooses, nor does he particularly mind that he's turned it on for that matter. He glances aside as Lily shuffles over and the other man creates a place for her on the futon with them as well. Lancelot sitting beside him, slumped against his side, it's comfortable, this moment between them. Lancelot's warm and heavy against his shoulder, and Faolan can't help but notice yet again that he smells good. That this is nice.

Perhaps a little too nice. Faolan shifts slightly, and Lancelot stays where he is, pressed against his shoulder. He opens his mouth to ask the other man whether he's really watching or not, whether he should turn it off and send him off to bed instead. He even goes so far as to reach for the remote to the television. But in the end he decides against it, settling his hand on his knee and focusing on the film. Watching it through until the other man's warmth and soft, quiet breathing slowly coaxes him into slipping off to sleep where he sits as well.