[ It's after dark, and Lambert's winding down on his work for the day, when the smell of snow and pine hits his nose. He looks up from the list he's currently working on -- a few possibilities have been eliminated, and a few look more promising, so maybe they'll have something they can really start working on tomorrow -- and grins at the magician. ]

Hey. [ He cracks his neck to the side with a winch, then pushes his seat away from the table, waving a hand to extinguish the burner flame under one of the beakers. ] Sorry, Mr. Childermass, we're closed for the night. If you're looking for Strange, he's probably out there getting into trouble.

[ Because that is, he assumes, why Childermass is here. ]