Faolan reaches up to grasp at the blanket as it's draped around him, turning to frown at the other man over his shoulder. To frown at the look on his face and the fact that, although he seems to want for him to stay, that he seems to want to take care of him, he still hasn't acknowledged a word that he's just sad. For all the pushing, once the truth is laid bare, it is Lancelot who is now the one denying it.

"Stop," Faolan says, turning to face him, unable to stop himself from continuing. Feeling stripped and laid bare before the other man even though he is almost covered head to toe by the blanket as he stands before him. "You and I both know that I'm never going to win that election, so stop pretending like there's going to be any other outcome than me losing this, because that's what I do, Lancelot. I fuck things up, and I've fucked it up here now too, so if I've made you uncomfortable I'd rather you just throw me out or just let me go and be done with it than keep on like it's all going to be okay when it's obviously not...!"