It's a disappointing answer, if an expected one. Though as he turns to leave, Lambert's tail thwips through the air, casually brushing against the back of one of the magician's legs. Whether it's deliberate or unconscious is hard to say, given Lambert's attention is already turning back to the food on the table.

"Suit yourself, Master Childermass," Lambert shrugs, lazily. With the lassitude of the alcohol kicking in, he leans heavily on the edge of the table, picking up more bread and cheese in a vain effort to soak up the stuff he drank too damn fast.

"Find us if you change your mind."