Faolan's eyes follow the other man's movements, and he flicks his eyes away after a moment, realizing he's watching perhaps a little more intently than he should. The fact that Lancelot can't really notice him watching almost makes it worse, somehow.

"Yeah, alright," Faolan responds, glancing around to figure out where to put down the glass before spotting the shelf behind the bed. He braces a hand on the mattress beside the other man so that he can lean forward across him and rest the juice up on the shelf, along with the plate of biscuits he'd fetched earlier, before sitting upright again. "I'll let her in," he agrees, "so long as you promise to tell me if you need anything. And not to feel guilty about it when you do."