Lambert stares at Strange blankly. “I don’t feel like I’m dying.” The story’s trying very hard to make Lambert think he’s dying but that’s where that mental fortitude comes in handy. The best it can do is try to dim and flicker the images around them to simulate fading vision, and one of the ravens caws when Lambert speaks, an air of disapproval about the way it cocks his head. The floor underneath them lurches angrily, making Lambert reach out to steady himself on the bathtub quickly with his free hand.

“All right, all right!” he grumbles. “Bring me this fucking idiot so we can get this over with already!” He gestures ineffectually at the darkness like he’s seen Strange do a hundred times before, impatiently.