Childermass is correct in that Lambert doesn't recognize what he's talking about, but when he brings them out he'll understand better at least. Divining's a tradition as old as humanity; the only thing that changes is what they use it with. Once he has the pants buttoned up to his satisfaction, he'll join Childermass at the table, curiosity evident in his expression, though he doesn't reach out to touch the cards. If they've any magical properties at all, he knows that would be rude at best, potentially painful at worst. They look well-used, in any case -- almost as shabby as Childermass is on a non-carnival day, but somehow in more cared-for condition.

"A magician and an oracle too? You're a man of many talents, Master Childermass." He'll find himself a seat and plunk himself right down across him, folded arms resting on the table edge.

"Whose fortune are we reading today?"