Stupid witches.

When Strange found you, you had been making your living giving "tarot readings" in New York that were perhaps a little too on the nose. Of course, this was with the help of magic. Magic, which he thought had turned you completely insufferable.

Recent events had forced the two of you together. Magical crises require magical solutions, after all. You! In his Sanctum Sanctorum for God knows how long! The thought alone sickened him.

A thud from down the hall alerted him to your apparent wakefulness, and he barely suppressed a groan. He could only hope you wouldn't come into his study.