“Do you think it was a warning of some kind, steering you towards what to do? Mine was technically an alternative present— I saw myself dying, and I saw someone else I needed to help. Or was it more a cautionary tale: here, witness, this is how much worse it could have been.”

Strange is itching for someone to quote It’s a Wonderful Life to, but he bites back that pointless instinct — it does take effort, please applaud his self-control — and then he’s shifted his attention towards just admiring the office, the clean tidiness of it, inhaling the scent of ink-covered paper like an old library. It’s a comforting smell. “What sorts of things do you work on here?”