Seeing that Strange was still obsessing over his hands, Alan couldn't help but frown. _This won't do at all!_
If he brought him to Ancient One like this, she'd definitely be suspicious.
"If your hands never heal for the rest of your life, are you planning to live like a defeated stray dog forever? What about Christine—her feelings for you, her expectations of you—what will you do about that?"
Alan decided to change tactics. Maybe approaching from another angle would help Strange snap out of it.
Once he fully comprehended magic, he'd be able to use the Time Stone to restore himself.
And if not that, there were other magical methods as well!
But with his current stubborn mindset, grasping magic still seemed like a distant dream.
When Alan mentioned Christine's name, Wanda noticed the subtle shift in Strange's emotions. After a moment of silence, she saw him slowly rise to his feet.
"Can you take me to meet that sorcerer?" Strange muttered to himself that he must be going crazy. Everything he'd ever learned rejected the existence of gods or spirits.
And yet now, here he was—willing to believe.
It all started after meeting someone as extraordinary as Alan.
Strange now believed there were countless things in the world—and the universe—that he had never encountered before.
"Alan, I think... Mr. Strange should probably change clothes first," Gwen said hesitantly, worried.
Was Alan seriously going to take this disheveled, unkempt version of Strange to the Sanctum Sanctorum to meet Ancient One?
Even if Ancient One might not care, Gwen still felt that the Sanctum was a sacred place. At the very least, they should show some respect by dressing appropriately.
"Mm, I agree. And he should shave, too. Mr. Strange, if you don't mind me asking... when was the last time you washed your face?" Wanda asked bluntly, unafraid of being impolite.
Inwardly, she was a little smug. Alan liked cleanliness, after all—and of course, she didn't mind reminding him every day.
It helped her blend into his life, little by little. Maybe one day... he wouldn't be able to live without her.
In that moment, Alan had no idea what little plans the two women beside him were scheming.
"Uhh... about a week ago?" Strange couldn't really remember. His mind was filled with thoughts about how Alan might heal him.
Maybe he'd recommend some miracle doctor. But no—it wasn't a doctor. It was a sorcerer...
Alan couldn't help but show a look of distaste. Clearly, the car accident had struck Strange far deeper than anyone imagined.
Strange looked up and met Alan's gaze, giving an awkward smile. "Sorry. Just give me a few more minutes."
A short while later, when Strange reappeared before them, he had changed into the only clean outfit he owned.
He looked significantly better—more put-together.
But with the scruffy beard still on his face and his wildly unkempt hair, he still resembled a 'wild man.'
"I'm sorry. My hands... you've seen them. I just can't do anything about the beard right now," Strange said awkwardly.
He wanted to shave, truly. But his hands trembled so badly, like he had Parkinson's. It was out of his control—and deeply frustrating.
"Can I help him?" Wanda asked Alan for permission. When she saw him nod, she stepped forward.
She walked up to Strange and raised her hands gently beside his face. In that moment, Strange felt a wave of warmth spreading across his skin.
It wasn't until that warmth faded that Strange finally snapped back to his senses.
...
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