Faolan keeps on towards the door, shaking his head as he goes. It's not that he's trying to run away from Lancelot, not really. But from the moment that he's created between them, from what he's forced Lancelot into. From whatever look might be on Lancelot's face and the fact that he probably put it there. From this hot, twisting sensation inside of him. That's what he'd been trying to do, coming here. Coming here to Lancelot. Barging into his flat. Railing on ideas that Lancelot obviously must believe in, or at least does not feel as strongly against as he does.

"No," he says, barely skipping a beat as he reaches the entryway. "You did. And that's fine. But I should leave. I've already outstayed my welcome. You don't need to hear about my problems." He reaches for the door.