Faolan shrugs slightly. Truth be told, he doesn't usually do anything on Christmas Eve. But he's Lancelot's guest. There's no reason that he shouldn't. "I can stay up with you," he offers. "No reason not to. Just keep the coffee coming if I start to fade, I suppose," he adds, with the flicker of a smile at the other man.

He rises from the futon at last, resisting the urge to take the blanket with him into the kitchen (it isn't his blanket, and he doesn't know how Lancelot would feel about such a thing), and instead hoping that the coffee will do enough of the job to warm him up instead. He glances down at Lily at her dish for a moment, before moving to lean on the counter next to Lancelot. Wondering if he should be helping in some way. Not sure if he's awake enough to be much help just yet, or if the other man would let him even if he were. Mostly he's just hovering, but he isn't conscious enough to recognize he is, not just yet at least.