He flexes his fingers, rolls his shoulders, alleviating some of the stiffness. “Warmup,” Strange concedes. “I’ll be able to do it higher next time.”

And he admits, grudgingly, like an offhand thought, “This is one of the times Lazar might’ve been useful.” Man’s got strength on his side, especially compared to the older and more leanly-built doctor; but they’re stuck down here in the darkness and the party’s split and options are limited.

So. Sizing up the height of the crevice again, and gathering his strength. Pull harder, he reminds himself, and: “Ready.”