Of all the things that Ignatius was expecting, that wasn't one of them. It shouldn't be possible - Strange was, by all rights, his. No one should be able to summon him without his consent.

Though maybe that's what he gets for consorting with the magical oath equivalent of an absolute whore.

Ignatius grits his teeth, falling back into a battle-ready pose. As casual and light-hearted as he's been, the change of circumstances is enough to get his attention - when he isn't sure of his victory, he isn't so foolish as to treat a conflict lightly.

"Strange, ready yourself, they are wielding some kind of magic I'm unfamiliar with," he says, and immediately attempts to teleport the two of them away and back to the gardens in a swirl of flame.