Lambert recognizes the fear in Strange's voice, the way he holds himself. He knows what scared people look like -- he simply absolutely isn't used to them being people he on any level cares about. He remembers his own fears from Portland, but the terror feels more distant now, less immediate, shuffled mentally into the same space that lets him stare down a charging griffin with a steady heartbeat.

It's lucky that Strange finds himself choking on the alcohol, because it takes about that long for Lambert to decide on what to say.

"Look, human magic managed to trap all the True Fae on that world for twenty-five years, right?" he tries, once Strange recovers. "So we know their power doesn't make them invincible. They can be beaten, and they can be tricked." Not to mention they pretty much saw that the Ringmaster could be beaten and tricked -- and completely molded out of the shape of her own mind -- because that's not helpful to the discussion right now.

"Of course she's got power. A lot of things have power. You think I'm stronger than a griffin? That I could kill a troll without breaking a sweat?" He does have a point to make here, which he's getting to in a second. "I only beat monsters because I learned to. Because someone else figured out how, and I can use that." His hand clenches on the table, claws pricking into his own palm.