“You wouldn’t mind a second career as a personal trainer?” Strange asks, shoving some of the greenery out of the way with his pole as they continue moving their way down the drizzly street, forcing their way through overgrown underbrush, the weeds and bushes run rampant between rusting abandoned cars.

“Because that would be great. If you were amenable. I used to have daily drills at Kamar-Taj; as you know by now, combat training was a standard part of sorcerer training.” They’d both been on the receiving end of it in New York, unfortunately.

“It just hadn’t quite occurred to me to lurk around the training yard on the lookout for a trainer, but if you’re offering…”