Faolan's gaze falls from looking out the window itself to the trim on the door of the cab at Lancelot's words. He supposes that it had been a ridiculous idea, from start to finish. Asking him out -- of course he would never have understood he had meant it as a date, Lancelot did everything he could to see them as nothing more than platonic friends. He liked him well enough already, after all. And the food? Apparently that choice had been a mistake as well. He had seen the relief in the other man's face at his choice to leave. Of course some of it had to do with the girl, but.

God, he really is a fool, isn't he? A fool who just doesn't seem to know when enough is enough. Faolan shifts to scrub his face with his hands for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh as he does. "But I wanted to impress you," he admits, from behind his hands. "That was rather the point." Of all of it, really. Well enough isn't going to get him anywhere anytime soon, after all.