"S'hardly not creepy," Lars corrects smugly, lifting his eyebrows as he smiles with his teeth. "Anyway, y'can't go back fer now. Jya leave the stove on'r somethin'?" Lars is joking, of course, to be an asshole. "S'fine, dude. Or at least... haha, there's nothin' y'can do, so y'might as well enjoy it. Y'know. At least..." a slight slur there, and Lars straightens up as if it's an issue of posture. "—from the good ol'—magical, scientific standpoint, right?"

Lars elbows Strange in the arm, very deliberately making a point. There's been so many times Lars has been imploding from stress of the supernatural variety while Strange was barely reigning in his poetic waxings of the freaky shit that was going down. Feels good to have that perspective at the moment, Lars decides.

"Loosen up, buddy."