[ Thankfully, a brief break in the daemon-induced distraction means that Lambert can actually think about what Strange is saying. A fight with Childermass? Well, that's no surprise. They're two very different people, after all, for all else they have in common. Celandine wasn't only being cheeky when she teased Childermass about being surprised they shared the same sentiment. ]

You're asking me if I think you were born a prick or if Portland made you one?

[ Seriously, Strange? This is the existential crisis you bring to his door? Yet despite all that, he can't sound too pissy, if only because it's really hard to be annoyed when you still have the lingering aftershocks of the sheer, unbridled joy that comes with someone you trust laying their hand on your soul. ]

I don't know who you were before the Carnival, Strange. Maybe you were always a jerk so far up your own highborn ass you never noticed it. But ... [ He wrinkles his nose, exasperated. He is not good at this shit, but he also has no idea how long he has before those two interrupt him, so gets it out in a rush: ]

Even if you were, if you don't like that, then change. It can't be any harder than changing the course of a river, can it? [ Except the geography of the peninsula is ever more malleable than Strange's ego, and yeah, he read the books you gave him you dummy. Is he supposed to incorporate changing topography into nightrunner maneuvers now? ]