Faolan shakes his head. He doesn't want to argue this, he doesn't want to have to point out how low of an opinion he has of himself. How much trouble he knows he is, how exasperating. Fearful and stubborn and set in his ways as he is. He knows there has to be some reason that Lancelot has kept him around for all this time, and it can't have been just the fact that he has a kind heart for strays. But his personal defects weren't the point he had wanted to make.

"I have ever been my own greatest critic," he replies. "As I'm sure can be said for yourself as well. It's why I'd somewhat convinced myself though that... I didn't have a chance, I suppose," he says, with a shrug. "And why... I probably haven't reacted this evening in quite the way one might have thought, considering how long I've been tailing after you. I just..." He shrugs again, tilting his head to the side slightly, his eyes firmly on their hands and anywhere but looking back up to meet the other man's gaze. "I had convinced myself you would never say yes, I think. So I hope you will forgive me for the fact that it will take a bit of time to instead convince myself that you have."