"A false sense of security," he repeats. "Ahh. I had no idea you thought me so machiavellian, I feel outnumbered now. Between yourself and Lily I am sure to be unable to do a single thing without being closely watched."

He is eating, if slowly -- eyes closing for a few seconds here and there against the last strains of the headache still nagging at him. Lily settles in her fussing after a moment, laying beside Lancelot with her head on her paws and closing her eyes in pleasure as he reaches to stroke at her every so often.

She can wait, she is a good dog. She loves him very much.