“It will be for a while; possibly forever. I don’t know what sort of spells you’re accustomed to, but if your world was anything like mine, there’s an irritating capability gap here. Magic is harder to execute, and it drains you faster.”

Is there a faint pang of jealousy over this other Stephen Strange she knew, who presumably wasn’t limited in the same way? Maybe. Besides the Sling Ring, Strange finds that he misses the telekinesis most: fine control, handwriting, being able to tie his own tie.

But he’s gotten in the habit of stubbornly reminding himself not to think about it, not to disappear down that spiral of imagining these other worlds. He is what he is and it is what it is. Looking too far afield in envy leads to—

(to living alone in an empty universe, a sallow haggard face and unshaven beard and unkempt hair, searching for a version of himself who might be happy, and who has Christine)

So. Don’t look too far.

“You don’t have to literally write it down; I’ll remember. What’s Apparition? Can you still do it here?” he asks, genuine interest piquing his voice. This wasn’t actually the point of the intake visit, the Head Healer does have other topics he needs to go over with her, but— first, magic. The man’s got priorities.