"The peninsula didn't have fae, demons, or giant monsters," Lambert points out, missing Strange's silence entirely. It's easier to miss awkward pauses when you're not looking at a person and are doing something else, after all; he just assumes Strange is as distracted as he is.

"They might have clothes that ward against poison or magic, or something you could enchant," he goes on. Not that he knows the ins and outs of such things, but he has a vague idea that the concept's possible, at any rate. He finally looks up from what he's perusing, a heavy black coat whose material he's feeling through his fingers, to grin at Strange.

"Come on -- you're a fae carnival's magician now. Ordinary clothes just don't fit the part."