With other people stepping into the conversation, it gives Lambert a moment to breathe, and assess the situation in front of him. Ignatius pretty decisively has a sword through his chest. Ignatius is also really obviously not dead.

But though the Athenaeum's magic is open to them ... they know it only persists as long as there's a storyteller to keep it going. One of them could threaten to stay here with Ignatius forever -- the span of a mortal life is longer than twenty-five years, and maybe the Athenaeum could kept them fed for that time? -- but he dismisses it. He doubts any of them are interested in being Ignatius's perpetual jailer, and capturing and keeping people isn't really the Carnival's style.

Though it sure as hell seems to happen to them often enough. Would be nice to have the shoe on the other foot for once. Fists balled by his sides, Lambert looks up at Rita, eyes narrowd.

"He does have something we want," he says, steadily, his voice low and deadly in contrast to his rage earlier. "Information." He turns to the fae, wiping Strange's blood off his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a red smudge.

"You did something to Strange. Your kind always do. Rifled through his memories like a card deck, where you can pick and choose." His grin grows savage, fangs bared. "I wonder ... have you ever had that happen to you?"