It seems to have worked, after a fashion. Whether it'll turn out to be something they regret or not ... Lambert doesn't have the ability to see that far in the future.

But for now, he has other problems. He steps back from the fae on his knees to wrestle with whatever the spell's done to him, but it's really more of a stagger, as he fumbles for his radio and pushes the button.

"Are the rest back already?" he asks, his voice hoarse from exertion, panting for breath. Turns out trying to consciously pour memories into someone else is kind of mentally taxing. No longer held in place by his hand, the paper drifts up again and away from Ignatius, swaying gently.