Abby goes mmm like she knows but actually she has no idea at all. In the process of bringing pestle back to mortar, grinding up a new batch of elfroot she says, "What happened?"
To her, it doesn't seem rude. Back home, asking about other people's injuries or scars was pretty normal. Most of the time you were asking just so that you didn't repeat some stupid mistake later down the line, so; it's self-preservation, really. Tell me what happened so I can make sure it never happens to me.
There’s the brief flicker of surprise, realising: oh, have I not mentioned it already?
Stephen Strange is incorrigibly tight-lipped and private and secretive about many things in his life (see: that whole new burgeoning relationship with Gwenaëlle), but he’s fairly open about this one. It had consumed his life for so many years that it didn’t seem worth trying to keep secret. It was written all over him, and he’d had to get accustomed to doctors and nurses flocking in and out of his room, re-wrapping his bandages, physical therapists massaging his hands.
How did it happen? he’d asked Ellie, about her missing fingers. What happened? Ellie had asked, about his hands. The question’s a straightforward one.
“Car crash,” Strange says, a twist at his mouth, trying to keep his tone as light as possible. He remembers there were some still-working cars and trucks in Abby’s Seattle, so he doesn’t have to contextualise that part. “Making me a walking talking cautionary tale about the dangers of reckless driving. Considering I lived in a world with alien invasions, it’s pretty underwhelming.”
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To her, it doesn't seem rude. Back home, asking about other people's injuries or scars was pretty normal. Most of the time you were asking just so that you didn't repeat some stupid mistake later down the line, so; it's self-preservation, really. Tell me what happened so I can make sure it never happens to me.
no subject
Stephen Strange is incorrigibly tight-lipped and private and secretive about many things in his life (see: that whole new burgeoning relationship with Gwenaëlle), but he’s fairly open about this one. It had consumed his life for so many years that it didn’t seem worth trying to keep secret. It was written all over him, and he’d had to get accustomed to doctors and nurses flocking in and out of his room, re-wrapping his bandages, physical therapists massaging his hands.
How did it happen? he’d asked Ellie, about her missing fingers. What happened? Ellie had asked, about his hands. The question’s a straightforward one.
“Car crash,” Strange says, a twist at his mouth, trying to keep his tone as light as possible. He remembers there were some still-working cars and trucks in Abby’s Seattle, so he doesn’t have to contextualise that part. “Making me a walking talking cautionary tale about the dangers of reckless driving. Considering I lived in a world with alien invasions, it’s pretty underwhelming.”