He looks up again at that, tilts his head slightly as Faolan struggles to his feet.

"You are surprisingly unsteady for someone who is fine," he points out, and pads quickly over to pull out a chair and gently guide him into it so he doesn't trip over the end of the blanket and crack his head open. "Please, Faolan, just... let me."

Then Lancelot flits away again to finish plating up the food, re-appears after a moment to slide a plate in front of Faolan. It's simple enough, toast with a little cured ham and a poached egg on top -- no sauce just in case it was too rich for an unsteady stomach. Stepping back he grabs the salt and pepper and sets them on the table before picking up his own plate and sliding into a chair, half watching Faolan as he begins to cut into the food and half staring down his own a little more than necessary.