"You wouldn't have tolerated half-assing something," she said with cheer, with a blend of both Lance's fondness and perfectionism, and Lexi's...well, Lexi-ness. Ignoring her own plate in favor of leaning over Arthur and stealing some of his pie, she tipped an eyebrow at him. "So tell me what little there is. Where are you living?" A grin, then, irrepressible and cocky, Lancelot's smile when things had been glorious and they been unconquerable. "And is there room for me?"