Faolan takes in a deep breath as well, trying to calm the emotions roiling inside of him, trying to keep himself from lashing out at the other man. He's scared for Lancelot because he is ill, and terribly so, and his anger at the other man for hiding further symptoms from him isn't going to fix anything or even make him feel better himself.

"You should have told me then," he chides the other man, and though Lancelot might not be able to see the frown on his face, he should be able to hear it in his voice. He steps closer to the other man, reaching out to take the other man's flailing hand in his own.

"Here," he says leading him forward and guiding Lancelot's hand to the edge of the bed. "I'm not stopping you from lying down," he says, trying to sound more reasonable, but it comes out gruff. "But if you want me to help you, then let me help you. If you keep pushing yourself you're only going to make it worse, you know."