There’s a beat, assessing, while Strange cranes his head and looks up again, squinting at the landing zone. He’s pinpont-precise with his magic, but— notsomuch in Thedas.

After a moment, he mutters to himself, “Someday I’ll convince someone to let me try a Fastball Special,” and then shakes out his hands, rolling his shoulders, limbering up. Conceding at a normal volume: “Explosive is an alarmingly persuasive point. We can do it the old-fashioned way if you like. Be a bit embarrassing, if I had to explain to the rest of leadership why our Scoutmaster’s become paste on the wall.”

Sorry. He’s not very reassuring.