Not deigning to answer either of them, Lambert stomps back over to the couch and drops the feather on the coffee table. His movements are sharp and jerky, but it isn't embarrassment at the present he's leaving them with as he retreats. There's almost definitely a bit of blood on the end of that quill.

It's only once he's stepped back that he offers any kind of explanation for leaving them with such a weird memento--

"It's hard to hold on to someone's jacket when faeries are kidnapping them, so this is all I've got," he says with false brightness, mouth twisting in a sharp, ugly sneer before he turns sharply on his heel.

"I'm going out. Text me what you want for dinner."

And before anyone else can react to that, he's gone.