There's something slightly uncomfortable about this, about the way that Faolan is rejecting any idea that he's worth something. Yet Lancelot doesn't want to be mired in a lengthy conversation about this either, because that is probably even less comfortable.

"Well," he tries, "you're welcome. I wouldn't say it's been a hardship, but, if you will insist on giving me credit."

Lancelot shrugs, lifts a the bottle he snagged to Faolan before opening it to take a sip.

"Who am I to reject it?"