Lancelot pulls the sweater on, and takes a moment to settle into it. "It does not seem too unlike court, here, to me. I do have more friends here, than at home, and for that I'm grateful. I think, too, I'm more comfortable with folk here."

He thinks, briefly, that here he is allowed to use his attention, his affection, as he likes -- but he doesn't know quite what else to do with that thought, so he puts it away, focusing instead on how the sweater feels and whether he likes the look of it.