“The Provost, yes.” What a profoundly silly-sounding title outside of college. He takes another sip of his tea. “Tony. We’re both from here. He’s got the big fancy tower, I’ve got this townhouse.”

Strange had introduced himself by surname, and any mention of him here as they helped the Theodosians acclimate and settle in had always come by surname as well: you can stay at Strange’s Sanctum. But from the sounds of it, the sorcerer calls him Tony. It seems there’s some sort of easy familiarity with the Provost, some gnarled chain of shared history leading back to this world they’re all currently stranded in.