Faolan shifts his hand off of the other man's forehead where he'd had the cloth pressed, and he'd just been setting it aside when Lancelot pushes himself to stand and nearly falls over on him.

"Whoa, whoa," he says, quickly reaching up to brace the other man, not trusting Lancelot to keep himself on his feet or upright at all. "Easy, yeah? Take it easy. Here, lean on me. Are you okay?" he asks, knowing the answer is of course, no, but not knowing what else to ask in order to determine whether Lancelot's about to throw up on him or... Who knows. Start bleeding out his eyes.