Faolan realizes peripherally that Lancelot is amused at him and his reactions, but he doesn't have it within himself to be upset by that fact. After all, he's probably invited it upon himself, by all accounts.

He waits with Lily in the kitchen, realizing somewhere around the time that he hears the bedroom door opening and Lancelot emerging from it that he's still sitting there shirtless, wrapped in a blanket. He probably should have thought about getting dressed earlier. Ah, well. He glances up at the other man, watching as he adjusts the shirt, eyes lingering for a moment here and there on how well the fit is, and those few buttons he's left open, before he glances away. Suddenly feeling a little too warm in this blanket of his.

"Maybe so," he responds, hoping that the other man will be too distracted with the dog to notice the flush across his face. "They were saying it would be warmer than yesterday even." He takes another few sips of his coffee, a blatant attempt to hide his face some more, before pushing to stand, fingers clutching tightly to the blanket to keep it firmly wrapped around himself. "I should... Get dressed myself. I get on the train like this, people might talk..."