Lancelot sits back to give Faolan space, watches the way he moves as he shrugs off the jacket. Watches as he winces before leaning forward to take it carefully and lay it on the table. He inspects his arm, unbuttons his shirt cuff and carefully begins to see how far he can push up the sleeve.

"Did the animal bite you?" he prompts gently, "or just scratch? Did you see if it was injured at all itself? Bleeding? Twitching as if it were ill?"

The barista appears again with a paper cup of hot water and a cloth and Lancelot turns to her, mouths gloves? questioningly and she hesitates before disappearing to grab a pair.