Even as Lambert encroaches on his space like that, Childermass is unmoved. The closeness hardly bothers him and he knows leaning away would only invite further loss of couch space. So he only squints tiredly at the other man, then glances up towards the ceiling as if considering an answer that's written somewhere up there. There isn't, obviously, but he's thinking.

"Context still matters," he concludes, looking down and at Lambert again. "But as I am able to use practical magic, I suppose I must consider myself a magician."