The cake, for what it's worth, is very good. Faolan is either not too shaken, angry, or upset to eat cake, or he's too drunk not to, when it's set right in front of him. He looks up at Lancelot in response to the water, and then shoots him a wary glance when he sits down near him as well. But he's staying quiet now at least, and mostly cooperating.

He doesn't really have the presence of mind to register the curious looks from the others, but he does catch something of Lancelot's parting conversation with Gwaine, and he slumps forward even further in his chair in response to it. Trouble. That's what he is for this man, he bemoans internally. That's all he ever is for anyone after all. And that's all anyone ever sees him. He glances down at Lily, oblivious to his drama, and wishes his life could be as simple. But it's not, and even intoxicated as he is, he registers lying down on the floor with her would be frowned upon. So he reaches for his glass of water and systematically continues forcing himself to drink it down, resolutely trying to understand why he's still here.