It's hard to be grumpy in the face of such happiness, but there are chemicals -- potions -- at work in his blood chemistry at the moment that are certainly helping. Still, he can't deny her the hug, even as he frowns at Lancelot, trying to determine whether they're just lying to him for the sake of covering for themselves here.

"...maybe," he responds, to Lancelot's prompting. Which in Faolan's vocabulary at this point of course means yes. It's better that Lancelot himself is making the suggestion, though. As it stands, Faolan can't quite control himself or his impression on the world around him. A distraction suggested by Siobhan would simply be construed differently than one by Lancelot. That's how an obsession works, after all...

"How do the pair of you know each other?" he can't help but asking, as he reaches for a doughnut himself.