All that nets Lambert is his hand being batted away. If only he could frown more than he's already frowning! But it's pointless. Telling the witcher off for it is likely just the reaction he would want and, ultimately, messing with his feathers isn't worth it. It's not as if it hurts him, though the strangeness of how it feels to have them brushed by like that is ever a distraction.

"Stick to monsters, Lambert. You're an awful thief," he goes that route instead, mostly ignoring the comment about being a magician. He knows he is, but the previous radio conversation still rankles for now. With him off to feed Pig, though, he finally takes the time to drop into a crouch and call Baker over. The dog happily breaks away from the towering Mudsdale and the witcher to him, where he'll get a scratch behind the ears. Childermass takes the chance to peel off the errant ribbon stuck to him, as well, and toss it aside.

Though when he gets back to his feet, he does take a second to pick the whiskey bottle back up as he goes. Of course, now he just has a bottle and nothing to pour it into. That's a dilemma. The fix to it? Still attached to Lambert, unfortunately.

"Now," Childermass glances down at the mugs he's brought along, "are you going to offer me one of those or are they actually meant as decor for that lizard tail of yours?"