Strange nods. He stands up, walks behind the tent to grab the pot, then goes out towards the trees. It's about ten minutes before he comes back with a pot mostly full of water. Strange himself is mostly dry, though there's the sort of muggy stickiness that lingers in the air, after the rain.

Wordlessly, Strange sets the pot down near Lambert. There's a few chunks of ice floating in the water as well: this thing is cold. Give Mr. No Upper Arm Strength over here a moment to catch his breath because he definitely needs it.