The tone almost made her shiver - from recognition, from exhaustion, from old anger and older fear and half-healed grief. Pausing, Lexi turned, one eyebrow arching up in a way that was so much like who she had been. "Your friend. Gary. I met him at the diner, a while back. That's where we met, as well, but you had your hands full and..." She lifted one shoulder in a shrug; there was that same kindness, friendliness, in her face, but something lurked behind it. Some defiance or patient amusement - Lancelot had never once bowed to Mordred, and even now, he was hardly going to start. "You seem kind of tense over a simple pleasantry. I didn't mean to offend."