“Hey, it happens,” Strange concedes, the corner of his mouth flickering. He does know how it goes — in more ways than one — and so he offers his own, “I got chased by a demon out of my ex’s wedding.”

At which point something occurs to him: “That eyeball thing you helped kill, actually. When I first got to Thedas.”

It’s not the same as clickers and stalkers (they’re worse, he will forever maintain that they’re worse), but at least it’s a reminder that monsters had been a sort-of-everyday occurrence back home, too. Except that he’s out-of-sorts here, snipped out of the context of gleaming New York and that magical Sanctum; he even looks drabber, less vibrant. He looks tired.