Faolan doesn't quite manage to dodge the chair being thrust at him, largely because he's still not used to the idea that Lancelot has such an ability in the first place. It clips him in the back of the knees but he manages to reach out and keep himself from toppling over at that. Glancing aside at Daryl's whistle, he sees the knife and shoots him a grateful glance as he dashes for it and then back to the chair.

"Make sure none of them make their way down this way!" he calls out to the others. Realizing at once that there's a bit of a problem with this picture. For one, the rope suspending the other man is very high up. And for another, the chair isn't quite tall enough to allow him to reach that far. Faolan swears under his breath about his height not for the first time before untangling the table from the rest of the chairs and pulling it over as well. Awkwardly clambering up on it and stretching (on the tips of his toes, god damn it) to be able to reach the rope to begin cutting it off. Slipping the knife in between the other man's wrist and the material and sawing away at it.

He thinks about advising Lancelot to brace himself as the rope begins to fray but really what is there to say? Getting down is better than staying up there, and there's no easy way of getting down but falling...