[ He's not sure how long it's been – since their showdown with Ultron and the Stones. Time loses meaning when nothing happens to mark its passing, when all moments are spent in consideration, meditation, vigilance. What he does know is it feels nice to reminisce on the small time the Guardians gave him to feel whole again. To feel human again. To be... something good.

He remembers Carter and Romanoff's last-ditch effort to save them all. Legends indeed.

Except then Johnson continues and... ah. There it is. He winces out a smile. ]

Yeah – about that. [ He presses away from the wall, tries to stand straight and look as much a picture of health as a gaunt, pale, dark-eyed sorcerer can. ] Might seem "off" to you, but I can assure you– [ he raises his palms and gestures reassurance, ] totally normal on my end. A few more things going on than the Dr. Strange you're probably used to, but – it's fine. Handled. The universe we're stuck in just seems to be emanating some kind of dimensional interference that...

[ He trails off as his gaze lowers to his own gesturing hands. One of them's shifted into a collection of green tentacles, wriggling in opposite directions.

He grabs his wrist with his other hand and shoves it down. Clears his throat. ]

I'll probably stay in for the evening.