"Is that so?" Lambert laughs, warm and easy, and passes the cigarette over willingly enough. If Childermass wants the nicotine that badly, he can keep it; the witcher has better things to do with his hands.

And his tail. Side by side and leaning against the fence as they are, it's entirely trivial for it to slide companionably around the magician, not quite dragging him to the witcher, but the idea's there.

"Well, you don't have to wait for a special occasion for that."