“Not as such. I certainly could contribute to Forces — I used to be in the thick of it, combat-wise — but I suspect my particular skillset would be of better use in Research. I might be able to accomplish more there, as opposed to one more live body in a fight. And besides— if Forces need the extra hands, I can still be mobilised in joint division operations and such. I’d still fight even if I have a scroll pin on my Riftwatch uniform.”

Speaking of hands.

Strange rips a piece off his lump of bread, dips it in the stew; it’s easier for him to use the bread to sop it up rather than using the spoon, to avoid slopping the broth all over himself. He flexes his crooked fingers and then shoots the other man another look. The truly tactful thing would be to not mention it, to let this moment pass on by, but he’s already used up all his tact in waiting this long, so…

“Sorry, I just have to ask. Am I really so unobservant that I missed…” He gestures with the bread at Mobius’ hands, the straps around his palm. “Has that always been the case? With your hands?”