"But I'd like to," he insists gently. He watches the other man for a moment longer, before sitting forward on the bed. "And you're welcome to supervise me if you like. Though it's just soup. I promise I'm not about to burn down your kitchen or anything."

"Besides." He flicks a quiet smile at the other man, reaching out to put a hand on his knee beside him and squeezing it gently, in attempt to reassure Lancelot that he's really not trying to bully him into anything. That he only has his best interests in mind. "If you were to wind up in the hospital for pushing yourself too hard cooking," Faolan says, trying to keep his expression wry, "then I will make sure all your friends know about it and you'll never get to live it down. Just so we're clear on that, yeah?"