Lambert shifts, reaching out so he can rest the fingers of one hand against Childermass's thigh. For once, it's not a prelude to anything lewder (yet), just a solid reassurance of his physical presence since Childermass looks to be thinking hard enough for his head to pop off.

"S'far as I can tell, it's not really going to make us into fae, either," he offers. "We won't be part of Winter or Summer." Which might make it better or worse from Childermass's perspective.

"You don't have to take it if you feel that crappy about it. You're not the only one who's choked up about it." Okay, so that sample size currently consists of 1. Yuya, and 2. Papyrus, sort of. Everyone else seems to be handling the imminent loss of remaining dregs of mortality pretty well.