Lambert glares at Zangetsu as best as he can around the handkerchief he's now got pressed to his nose and Childermass's shoulder. He doesn't look particularly mollified by the promise, slouching against the magician, tail wavering slightly behind him.

"A round of drinks and you show us where you bought those," he declares, a little nasally, raising a hand to point at Zangetsu's ears (or the general vicinity thereof, anyway; his depth perception is kind of shitty right now).