"In Portland you would have," Lambert points out, before he can bite it back. They've already established Childermass isn't that man any more than Lambert is who he was back then, but even so, he can't help snorting when the hand is extended to him.

"What, you meant now?" With how indirectly Childermass was talking about it, he couldn't be blamed for a little temporal confusion. If the way he's grinning wickedly is anything to go by, he's rapidly regaining his cocksure attitude (and his bad sense of humor).

"Very spontaneous. I like it." He reaches out to place his hand firmly in Childermass's, any lingering traces of doubt wiped from his expression as he makes his decision.

Good idea, bad idea, hell with it. What's the worst that could happen?