Faolan nods slightly, watching the other man disappear into the other room to fetch the tiger rub before settling back in his chair and concentrating on his sandwich. It's a lot easier to do when the other man isn't there and Faolan's attentions thus aren't otherwise preoccupied.

It doesn't take him long and thus he's finished and nursing his coffee again by the time that Lancelot is padding back out to the kitchen with the stuff. Faolan watches the other mans movement as close as he can without being obvious about it. He's looking for the stiffness he knows is still there, that Lancelot is just doing his best to cover for. And of course the exhaustion besides. He gestures for Lancelot to hand him the balm, turning the container of the stuff over in his hands for a moment before glancing back at him.

"Do you have anywhere that you want to be while we do this?" he asks. He figures that Lancelot had cleaned his own wounds in his kitchen before and he shouldn't have a problem with this either, but it feels better to ask, especially since this is the other man's flat after all.