Faolan makes something of a strangled sound that is halfway between a laugh and a gurgle of horror at the fact that Lancelot is calling him out so bluntly as he is. He runs his hand over his face again, struggling to keep his composure, but eventually he just gives up. What composure does he have to begin with, after all?

He tosses back a notably long pull on his drink -- he really had needed the drink, he hadn't been lying when he'd said that to the other man, before sitting back into the sofa once more. "Just imagine how bad it'd be if we hadn't been interrupted at that restaurant," he says. He flicks a glance up at the other man through his eyelashes before glancing away again and just coming out with it. It might make the situation even more uncomfortable but at least he won't be crawling out of his skin holding the secret back any longer.

"It was supposed to be a date, you know. When I had asked you to go out to eat with me like that. I was asking you out on a date. It's why the place was so damned over the top," he admits.