Lancelot is fussing, and Faolan shouldn't be surprised by it, considering how much he's fussed over him in the past, but he is rather. Mostly because he's generally uncertain how to handle himself, after everything. And uncertain what Lancelot thinks of it all, for that matter. It's leaving him rather on edge although he's going to need to sleep and sober up to really comprehend and deal with it.

He grabs his bag and takes a step forward with it towards the bathroom, but. "Why not?" he can't help but ask. "I've. Been a terrible guest. ...among other things." Emotional rantings. Kisses. Which had seemed too much for the other man at the time, he might add. "I certainly haven't earned anything better, today. So. Why not?"