“Y’know, I’ve heard that before.” His own voice is warm with a similar mix of weary fondness, remembering the other man. It’s been a few months since the last time he tripped into thinking about the old Provost; time passes and the sting of it fades and then, every so often, he’s sharply reminded of how very much he misses Tony Stark.
“And weirdly? No. Gymnastics wasn’t really my thing.”
Strange has more experience with tossing vehicles and raising lakes than flinging someone with his bare hands, simple physics, leverage and propulsion. But maybe, just maybe, not every problem has to be solved with magic. He stands at six feet, broad enough shoulders. This should be doable.
While Yseult limbers up, he wedges the staff into a nearby crevice, then drops off his bag, his potion-belt, anything glass or breakable or cumbersome, leaving him standing only in his robes for full mobility.
He won’t need fine-motor control, he reminds himself. He laces his hands together in front of him, makes a platform for her to springboard off: “Is this the gist of it?”
no subject
“And weirdly? No. Gymnastics wasn’t really my thing.”
Strange has more experience with tossing vehicles and raising lakes than flinging someone with his bare hands, simple physics, leverage and propulsion. But maybe, just maybe, not every problem has to be solved with magic. He stands at six feet, broad enough shoulders. This should be doable.
While Yseult limbers up, he wedges the staff into a nearby crevice, then drops off his bag, his potion-belt, anything glass or breakable or cumbersome, leaving him standing only in his robes for full mobility.
He won’t need fine-motor control, he reminds himself. He laces his hands together in front of him, makes a platform for her to springboard off: “Is this the gist of it?”