Faolan lets out a little breath he hadn't even known he was holding until the other man's anger had deflated. Wondering what it was that he had been preparing himself for -- did he think that Daryl was actually going to come to blows with him over this? He doesn't rightly know. Although knowing Daryl, he wouldn't put it past the other man.

"Last night," he replies, deciding to focus on the facts and figure out their floundering friendship later. "From his home, I imagine. Or thereabouts. We were supposed to meet up, I ran late. I tried to call him. He didn't answer -- for hours, he didn't. That's not like him. I stopped by his flat to see if everything was alright." He shrugs slightly, as he continues to admit, "When there wasn't an answer I got the spare key and let myself in. But he'd just gone. No call, no note, he'd left his music on for god's sake. He's just..." Faolan trails off, lest he start to sound even more desperate than he does already. This is why he needs a tracker. Something is wrong. And he needs to do something about it. Fast.