Faolan watches him through the whole ordeal of simply taking the medicine and wonders if there might be something more he can do. Maybe when he gets back to Lancelot's place, but he shouldn't make him linger here, he decides. Lancelot undoubtedly just wants to go home.

He doesn't know what to feel about the fact that Lancelot is forcing smiles at him either when he knows how much he has to be hurting. He wishes that the other man would be more honest with what he feels -- and yet at the same time he supposed he doesn't. Lancelot probably would have told Faolan to get lost a long time ago, if he weren't so kind and understanding as he is.

"Of course," he replies. He watches the other man for a long moment before he moves to continue gathering whatever he might have that Lancelot might not back at his. Materials for cleaning those bites in particular. Quickly shoving them all into a bag before making his way back out to Lancelot. Stooping, after a moment's consideration to pick up the water bottle he had dropped to the floor, intending to carry it with him. God knows when the last time he'd had food or water, he probably would want the rest.

"Ready?" he asks softly, though he can't keep the concern he feels for the other man entirely out of his voice or expression.