Faolan glances back up at the other man and flicks him a soft smile as he does. He appreciates Lancelot's touch, appreciates his company. He tightens his fingers around the other man's again before letting his grip slacken once more. Lancelot can pull free if he wants, he just. He likes this, honestly.

"I'll do my best," he replies, "but don't let that stop you from enjoying yourself. I'll see that you get safely home regardless, don't worry." He thinks about making some sort of terrible joke or another about role reversals, how he wouldn't mind it if Lancelot crashed on his couch for a change although if he made a habit of it he'd have to invest in a futon of his own, but he knows Lancelot would never stay. Not when Lily was at home waiting for him. And so he doesn't.