Faolan shrugs slightly at the question, not really in the habit of having his eggs prepared in this way to know whether he preferred them soft or not. He realizes that Lancelot's only just teasing him, but it does bother him a little, the idea of it in general. The idea that he's made it a trial for the other man. The idea that he didn't have time to protest the idea. Even if he's making it clear that he wouldn't have.

Faolan shifts uncomfortably in his seat for a moment and tries to shake himself out of it. They've been through this before. Lancelot wouldn't have him over, wouldn't be cooking for him, if he didn't want to, in the end.

"Dunno," he answers, at last. "Just make it the way you like. I wouldn't know enough to tell the difference anyway..."