It’s a nice gesture, but it isn’t enough to cover what Lambert considers more personal than Strange’s junk: his scars. Mirrored scar tissue makes it impossible to disguise exactly the extent of the damage he’s sustained over his time in the Carnival, from the obvious like the shot to his shoulder and where Zangetsu stabbed him, to the scratches on his arms from Nightshade binding him, all usually hidden under stuffy Englishman clothing. It takes some of the amusement away from seeing him this way.

Celandine watches anxiously, tail flicking.

“Come on, up,” Lambert orders Strange gruffly. “One, two, three—” On the last, his tail tightens its grip on the magician’s arm and hoists him with surprising force.