Reynard appears to be quite content to simply carry him along despite his misgivings, so it is that Lancelot finds himself walking in despite himself -- still more than a little wary of his new companion. Good music, he prompts, and Lancelot simply continues to regard him with a look of utter bewilderment. What bands does he like?

"Forgive me," Lancelot begins slowly, "but if it is information you are after I fear my taste in music will not help you -- and perhaps I may not be the best help myself. I know some, but I have only been... aware of such things myself a few months. I fear I may be catching up myself, some of my memories are... cloudy."

He coaxes Lily closer, closes his fingers through her collar to stop her stray too close to any tables that smell tempting. She tolerates this easily enough, not too inclined to do as such anyway despite her obvious curiosity.