Childermass shrugs and offers the cigarette back over. Since never, of course. Strange is a... friend. Yes, certainly a friend, but not a master he has to pay any mind to, that much is true.

"It might be quicker, though," he points out, "If you contract for breaking the curse and he contracts for your passage to England in retaliation..."

There, however, he trails off, brow furrowing. Curses. Of course, now that a different fairy curse is in mind, it brings it back to a more immediate dilemma. Just how much does he tell Lambert? Does he tell him now? Does he delay? Tomorrow. He'll wait until tomorrow, he decides, gaze trailing down from the stars to the party still staggering on back by the lakeshore.

"I'll have to see the Ringmaster about setting one of those eggs up for you, if you're planning to stay that long."

There. A different argument for now.