And that assessment — so quintessentially Childermass, something he’s sorely been lacking for almost two damn weeks now — Lambert can only bark a short, harsh laugh.

“We can’t all look good,” he answers, nonsensically, as he sags in relief... only to grimace, because yeah, he’s still busted up. Childermass’s transformation has also conveniently cleaned him of whatever blood Lambert got on him, that lucky fuck, so Lambert’s the only one left looking like shit. As usual.