The harder edges fade off Ellie's smile, and for a second she just looks kind of tired. She comes in glimpses of different ages; sometimes she still feels fourteen, sometimes she feels painfully older than the people around her.

It occurs to her that Strange probably feels that way, too.

"Sometimes," she allows, shrugging her shoulders. "Other times I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

Maybe that admission is wiser than the rest of it. Wiser than she knows, certainly.