“What gave it away?” Sardonic, a little, but gently so. Strange tucks his hands behind his back, spine straight. He does have the look: built tall and lean, fingers long and delicate even besides the scars.

“Still making up my mind, actually. I could probably go into Forces if I felt like it. Slinging fireballs, cracking eldritch whips, it’s all old hat,” he’s joking, probably not realising how terrifying those things sound to someone not really accustomed to magic, Stephen,

“but it’s not really what I’m passionate about. I’m more interested in how everything ticks under the surface. Research, as you say.”