Faolan shrugs at that. It certainly seems elaborate to him. He's lucky if he even manages the toast before he's out the door, never mind the rest of it. Poached eggs and avocado? He might as well be eating out. He really isn't joking about getting spoiled during his stays here.

For a moment Faolan thinks that that 'someone' Lancelot's talking about is him, and is about to protest the idea of it, before he realizes that the other man means the dog, and he lets it go instead. He supposes it makes sense. Especially with today being a holiday, and with nowhere to be going, with him to entertain, of course the breakfast will be fancier than some. He sips at his coffee in contemplation of the other man.

"Just seems like you do a lot of cooking, that's all," he says, after he's taken a moment to parse through the previous thought. "Either that, or I've done a lot of sitting here, letting you feed me, lately. Not that I'm complaining," he adds, hastily. "It's probably better than I've eaten in years."