"You have not ruined anything," Lancelot assures him quietly, and he sets down his knife and fork -- reaches out to gently squeeze Faolan's arm. "You do not not have to give anything up. It... is not ideal, I will not deny that. We work together, Faolan, and our job is dangerous. You know that makes this... less than ideal. But... it is not something that can be undone. So we will handle it. So long as you can stop apologising for five minutes."

He flickers a small, tentative smile at that -- lofts an eyebrow questioningly.