It’s a little odd to be sitting here looking at Benedict, when their initial thoughts had run along the lines of he must be a traitor, or possessed, or; and now the sorcerer’s having to reconcile that with the weak, diminished real man in front of him.

Strange might have felt some guilt for those uncharitable thoughts, for having believed him to be the perpetrator at the time, even baffling as it was; but he’s simply too tired himself to work himself into knots about it. It is what it is.

“No, he’s fine,” Strange says. “He didn’t imbibe too much of the poison, and I was able to get to him quickly. I’m assuming you don’t know why the demon would have targeted him?”