“Hm,” Strange says, coming to an abrupt halt, a pause in that walk-and-talk. And it’s evident that he’s thinking it over.

“Presumably that sort of ability should be able to break through. Peeling back the illusion and showing us the Crossroads again, even if it’s just in a small localised area: one room, one parlour. Enough to see behind the curtain. That’s all I want for Christmas, to be honest.” A beat, then explaining, “Satinalia. Christmas is like our Satinalia.”

There is a door in front of them, closed, leading into a grand sprawling parlour. He’s pretty sure that’s where Wong is: probably watching The Sopranos on the TV while snacking, like he often is, but if he’s a Fade-crafted monster, then, well. This is going to be interesting.

“We’re going to go in there and ask my colleague and closest friend for scrying assistance. He’s the current Sorcerer Supreme, and far more experienced than I am, even if I might have more raw power.” This isn’t arrogance; it’s a crisp diagnosis, an explanation of his and Wong’s strengths and weaknesses.

“If it goes awry, would you be comfortable attempting to use those skills of yours? To disrupt the magical flow.”