He had seen it. He'd even seen that Lancelot had gotten it framed. Although he'd been charmed by the handsome man in the drawing as well as the grinning dog with him. He glances between the pair of them again, watching Lancelot flitting around arranging for coffee for them. (He'll be okay with the filter stuff, he's trusting Lancelot to know at least how to brew it even still, and not make them a pot of motor oil or coffee-flavored water on the flip side.)

He turns to frown at Siobhan, trying to fit in what he knows of her with this new information as well. "That was yours?" he asks, uncertainly. He knows that she can do metal work -- she'd made him that medallion after all, but the two didn't always come hand in hand.