"Sure," Faolan responds absentmindedly. Lancelot's sending him all sorts of clues as to what he's getting himself into when he arrives, but his mind is a bit otherwise preoccupied. On the election, on the nomination, on what his options are and the consequences of each choice. "See you in a while."

Faolan pretty much sleepwalks the rest of the way to the train and off of it again, sending the other man a text when he's about five minutes out and making a leisurely pace the rest of the way there. It's as he's approaching the other man's front door that he thinks he could have brought something, or offered to bring something, but it's too late now. He pulls out his phone to send another text if necessary.