Faolan finds himself placated for the moment, although the chiding has him feeling rather juvenile. At least as though he's being treated that way. Perhaps he deserves it, he supposes, as he picks up his sandwich again and takes another bite. Perhaps that's part of the problem between them. This is all that Lancelot sees of him. Struggling, uncertain, awkward, desperate at times... No wonder he's all but turned him down, Faolan thinks to himself bitterly.

He reaches a hand down to stroke through Lily's fur as she dances about underneath the table, hoping for food. He can see the appeal of having a dog around, he thinks. At least he'd never assume himself an idiot in her eyes.