"Made to hit fast? Makes sense. Not much point in buying drugs from a world-traveling caravan if they're like something you could pick up anywhere else."

Lambert occupies the opposite end of the couch, putting the glass of water on the sidetable and cradling his tea in one hand. He'd pass it to Strange, but he has the distinct feeling the magician's about to get much less coordinated fast, and water splashing everywhere is just about the last thing he wants when the windows are open like this.

Still, for as much as he's anticipating having to peel Strange off the floor or deal with his prattling in a few minutes, he can admit walking around was a welcome break from being kept inside. He's been focused on the cure to the exception of all else, and the argument with Childermass -- if one can really call it that, as one-sided as it was -- only serving as encouragement to avoid people more. He's not sure whether he should be grateful that it happened after he'd already moved most of his setup to the moon, or annoyed that this means he'll have to inevitably ask him to move it back, and no telling if the magician still intends to avoid him then...