Whatever Lancelot may think of his flat, Faolan himself seems to not react at all. A flat is a flat, and perhaps it's a little sparse but what does that matter? To Lancelot it matters little, it is dry and clean and anything else is a bonus.

He flops down onto the small sofa and sets his jacket vaguely over the back of it, making himself comfortable.

"I can wait here while you change," he says, "unless you need help deciding."

The teasing flick of his smile suggests this is meant as a joke, really, although with how hesitant Faolan seems about near enough everything he supposes he might struggle.