Faolan appreciates the music. He's always been one to appreciate good music, although looking at him, knowing him now, it'd be hard to tell. Aside from the band shirts he's been known to wear, possibly the only remnant left of the life he had before. H takes the shirt from Lancelot as he returns with it, holding it up first to judge the sizing and then read the saying on it. He crooks an eyebrow at him and at the expression on the other man's face.
"Don't think I don't know you're doing this on purpose," he says. He hesitates for a moment, and for an absurd half-second actually contemplates going into the bathroom to change. But no, Lancelot has seen him change before, and never commented or questioned about his body or the scars covering it. Though he's still self-conscious about the idea of changing in front of him, he won't refuse it at least.
He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it down and across the nearest piece of furniture before gripping the hem of his shirt and tugging it off and over his head as well. Tossing it down with his jacket and going for the shirt Lancelot had given him. At least there weren't any recent injuries to be hiding from the other man this time. He slips Lancelot's tshirt on over his head, smoothing it down once he's got it on and then standing back to present himself to the other man.
"Well?" He's not swimming, no, but it's obviously big on him. Faolan is naturally slighter than the other man as well and so it drapes more than it should, and hangs a bit lower at the waist, arms, and collar than it should as well. But it's not like he's going out like this -- and maybe it's a good thing that it's covering more of his jeans than not?
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"Don't think I don't know you're doing this on purpose," he says. He hesitates for a moment, and for an absurd half-second actually contemplates going into the bathroom to change. But no, Lancelot has seen him change before, and never commented or questioned about his body or the scars covering it. Though he's still self-conscious about the idea of changing in front of him, he won't refuse it at least.
He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it down and across the nearest piece of furniture before gripping the hem of his shirt and tugging it off and over his head as well. Tossing it down with his jacket and going for the shirt Lancelot had given him. At least there weren't any recent injuries to be hiding from the other man this time. He slips Lancelot's tshirt on over his head, smoothing it down once he's got it on and then standing back to present himself to the other man.
"Well?" He's not swimming, no, but it's obviously big on him. Faolan is naturally slighter than the other man as well and so it drapes more than it should, and hangs a bit lower at the waist, arms, and collar than it should as well. But it's not like he's going out like this -- and maybe it's a good thing that it's covering more of his jeans than not?