Faolan nods slightly. "Unless you want it all over your clothes, that's probably wise," he replies. "But it's no problem. I'm happy to get it all over my hands if it helps. I wouldn't even need all that much convincing to do it again, if you wanted."

He moves to stand, pushing himself out of the chair and crossing to the sink, as much to attempt to wash the smell off of his hands as to give himself something to do so he isn't just continuously fussing unnecessarily. He tries to think of something to say, something that isn't just something inane, but when he opens his mouth the first thing to spill out of it is hardly what he'd intended.

"After I left, I couldn't stop thinking that. I would come back here and have imagined the whole thing. And you'd still be out there." He glances across the kitchen to him, before casting his eyes away. "I guess it's why I'm here. But I don't want to be in your way. If you'd rather I leave..." He'd only just gotten rid of him last night, after all. And here he is again, hovering.