"I think you might be," he replies, "at least I should hope you are, running this place."

He quirks a smile, faintly amused, and takes a sip of the drink he's been nursing. It's nothing strong, because Lancelot doesn't really do strong drinks. Especially when he's keeping an eye out for trouble.

"Will you be supporting your representing duchess tonight, then?" he prompts, inclining his head in the direction of the rather camped up dancer. "Is she to your taste?"