“Careful!” Celandine admonishes with a squeak as Childermass makes to get down. She’ll stay still, though, as he gets himself down, then nuzzle appreciatively against the magician’s arm, appreciating the contact.

Though it doesn’t seem to do much good for her human, who takes his time sniffling and trying to compose himself before he musters an answer.

“Not like this,” the Lambert on the floor mumbles into his knees, hands shifting to grip his own horns, tugging at them in distress as his voice cracks. “Please, please leave me alone.”

“He doesn’t mean that,” Celandine deflates. Lambert’s even more incoherent than ever. She’d hoped Childermass could stabilize him where Strange couldn’t, but he is only half of himself, after all...