Lambert, who has a much better sense of how badly the faerie ale can fuck anyone up, doesn't pour Strange too generous a measure -- just about half a cup. Hopefully, he's not planning on getting through it that quickly, but given the rate they consume this sort of thing... he just laughs when Strane brings up the ambrosia.

"I haven't, but I'm not the one trying to work my way through the caravan's whole supply of substances," he answers, setting the bottle back down.