"I didn't," Lambert agrees, though he'll flash Childermass a quick smirk all the same. "Though out of all the times I've been fucked over, that was probably one of the better ones."

Not that he imagines Childermass cares in the least about those other times, and frankly? Lambert doesn't care to dwell on it it either. When the magician grants his permission (though even if he hadn't, no doubt Lambert would be bothering him regardless) he nods and slings the cleaned fish up to a better grip as he saunters towards the campfire.

"Works for me." A quick scan of the surroundings shows some likely-looking sticks to spear the fish on, and he goes about doing exactly that, setting them up to begin the slow process of cooking on the side that Childermass isn't using.