"Sure I do. You think witchers make enough money to buy new clothes every time we get covered in monster guts?" Lambert laughs like that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. As Childermass correctly figures, though, he doesn't seem all that insulted, giving a light shrug.

"Seemed like you were enjoying getting piss drunk and spending time with people like me. Don't think it could've worked without something that wasn't already there. Would have been shitty if we'd stayed there longer, though." Casually, like they hadn't just had their lives and wills compromised ... he's still confident he could have gotten out of it on his own eventually, but they'll never know now, will they?