Faerie? Venice? Arabella frowns a little, in mild confusion there. Sorry, Strange, your wife's a little bit behind on the exposition train, but it's easy to brush off as an unimportant detail in the grand scheme of things. She reaches up to cup his face again, searching mirrored eyes -- though all she can see is her own faintly anxious face reflected back. It feels like she hasn't seen him in such a dreadfully long time, though she can't remember why that is.

"Your magic's gotten you caught up in something again, hasn't it? I do wish you would stop being so reckless, Jonathan," she sighs. But of course, a wish it will have to remain. As much as Arabella had hoped for a quieter life and a chance to raise a family, it's not a picture Strange fits easily.