"Good to know." Lambert raises his brows slightly. He was glad to wake up without any more webbing between his fingers, and he hasn't noticed any other changes manifest, so he'd assumed he was off scott-free. He might not be so fortunate in the future.

The joke is exactly that to people from Lambert's world, Witchers are the worst of all. For that reason, he doesn't even blink when Childermass points the pen at him.

"Real fetching, isn't it?" He smirks, his expression cynical. "If you want to get your own, though, I'm afraid I can't help you. Wasn't as easy as magic rubbing off."