"Do you think that it will give you what you want if you frown at it any harder, sir?" Childermass asks, nodding to the phone in the other man's hand as he steps forward from around the side of the building. He'd been hoping to pick up a trace of where they might have taken the boy. Even if he could not have followed, perhaps they might have left something. Thus far however he's finding himself sorely lacking in anything in the way of evidence one way or another.

He recognizes Lancelot, vaguely. A Guardian, he knows him to be. A man from Daybreak, but not a witch. Metahuman ally, if he recalls correctly. Sylvia seems to be fond of him, but not overly so. It's Childermass' job to keep track of such details, but Lancelot hadn't particularly stood out in his researches thus far. Still. Reporting to him might not be a bad idea. Especially considering how the rest of them seemed to be otherwise preoccupied in Bromley, for that matter.