"I'm sure it's fine," Lancelot assures him, locking up and pocketing the keys before guiding Faolan aware from the door with a hand to the small of his back. Just enough to make sure he's steady and walking in the right direction before Lancelot drops it away and shoves it into his pocket. "It isn't a property inspection, Faolan. You aren't going to be rated on the state of your home."

At least he hopes not, or else Lancelot would have to wonder how he rated and if excess dog hair would be held against him.