He glances towards the drifting documents and takes that as confirmation, the corner of his mouth upturning at mention of accusation. "Client," he self-corrects, delicately, and with only so much conviction. Lucius occupies his attention to taking the magical medallion he had pocketed that had so neatly defied the stunning spells, turning it over in his hand with curious fingers.

"Cooperation occurs on any level," he adds, wand flicking and another similar amulet rises from one of the corpses on the ground. "When it suits."