Strange listens intently. Evolutionary biology and genetics aren’t his field, just as neuroscience or general medicine isn’t Cosima’s, but he’s tapped in enough to be deeply interested: the insane ethical violations, the implications. She gets to see him do a double-take at cultists?? but he doesn’t interrupt, and instead lets Cosima finish.

After she tapers off, he sorts through his reaction like shuffling a deck of cards. His hands had gone still on the piles of fabric; he only realises it after the fact, and then spurs himself back into motion to keep winding those bandages.

“So… not quite so viable,” is what Strange settles on, which isn’t exactly the most tactful thing to say, but he’s blanking on how else to address it. “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like, devouring resources looking for a cure to a problem—” He stops, cuts himself off, because this isn’t about him. “So its effects were still lasting even here in Thedas, if you were spending a lot of time in the infirmary? What changed?”