He snorts a genuine laugh despite the dark subject matter (this is, after all, how he functions): “Six of one, half-dozen of the other. Maybe a dracolisk can get involved.”

There’s that creeping awareness that Barrow was one of the ones lost at Granitefell; not someone he knew well enough to have felt a specific way about it, besides the general ache of failure. There had been the vague awkwardness of looking them all in the eye afterward, after the timeline rubberbanded back into place, but Doctor Strange still carried the memory of their dead bodies. Which does remind him, though…

“You’re Andrastian, right? You’d want a funeral pyre?”

—Not exactly fun beach gossip, but he’s still been meaning to pick through this information for Riftwatch. Might as well get a head start here.