All things told, Strange absorbs the factoid werewolves exist here with remarkable composure. (It helps, perhaps, that vampires and werewolves are a thing back home too, the mystical underbelly to the surface world everyone else knows.) So the pen doesn’t move. He sets it down; considers those implications. They actually make a hell of a lot more sense than the neurological issues, the mystery ailment.

“That… explains things,” he says. “So these memory lapses or fugues— they’re actually transformations? Does anything specific seem to trigger it, like,” oh, he has to say it, “the lunar cycles? The time of year, or your emotional state?”