Faolan thinks about covering for Lancelot. He thinks about making up some story about who he is and what he does, but the fact of the matter is that he's already too public a figure for that sort of nonsense. And another fact is that his position might be exactly why he's been targeted in the first place.

"I left her at his flat with some food and water down. She should be fine for now, if a little nervous that he's been gone for so long." A beat, before he realizes he hasn't explained, and elaborates to say. "She's his dog. Lily is... It's Lancelot's dog. And Lancelot, he's the Lead Guardian of the Night Council," Faolan continues, meeting her gaze as steadily as he can. Hoping it won't make too much of a difference. "I would say that's a pretty big target to have painted on his back, yeah."

And before she can say anything, "I told Sylvia. I have no doubt that she'll be mobilizing Guardians to figure it out themselves. But we're Hillingdon. We've got the best hunters and trackers in the city. Surely there must be..." There has to be something, they have to find him. Alive, the desperation on his face is reading.