"History?" Lancelot echoes, fidgeting slightly as antiseptic stings against the cuts. "It's... complicated, I suppose? I thought we were friends -- he saved my life once -- but I'm beginning to doubt my judgement on that."

In his gut, Lancelot has a feeling Faolan won't like all the details if he shares them. He immediately looks uncomfortable, dropping his eyes to watch him clean the cuts then moving them away to the floor and the wall -- avoiding eye contact.