Once again, they're in a situation that could have been prevented if Strange just didn't do the dumb thing. The thunk and noise of Lambert hitting the floor causes Strange to quickly take his hand off of Celandine as well, as he turns around to look at Lambert. He does have enough sense to feel a bit guilty as he looks between the almost passed-out man and the slack and studded daemon. Great job, buddy. You messed that one up.

"Celandine, stop moving," Strange quietly mutters, looking over at the polecat. Because yep, she looks like she's about to fall off of Childermass's lap. That isn't a good sign.

"Now I truly am glad I don't have Siobhan anymore," he muses aloud. "If just two people touching a daemon caused that reaction, imagine what would happen if multiple people touched one." And when your soul's four hundred pounds and seal shaped, it's a lot easier for multiple people to touch than a tiny little polecat. The poor people who had daemons like horses and cows must constantly be paranoid of someone brushing against them.