"And I don't want to give you up," Faolan counters, though the sound of his voice suggests he does not know whether he has much other choice in the matter or not. This... Whatever it is, it's inconvenient. It makes things so much more complicated. And it adds so much more of a risk to their relationship than a normal friendship would do. Faolan frees his hand to run them over his face, as much in an attempt to hide his flush, hide the embarrassment he feels at being so honest as to try and collect himself and will this pounding headache away.

"No matter what you make of yourself, you are important to me. And that's why I hadn't told you," he admits, lowering his hands to his lap and his eyes to rest on them as well. "Because I know that it's... It's not ideal. And it's probably not what you'd want from me, and. I didn't mean for this, for any of it, I just." He raises his eyes to Lancelot once more. "I know how I feel, Lancelot. I know how I have felt. And I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I'm sorry that it might have ruined your evening, or your morning. I'm sorry if I have just ruined our friendship. Sorry for that perhaps most of all. But I am not sorry that it is you." He lowers his eyes again, fearing that perhaps yet again he has said too much.