His ears perk at the sound of Strange's voice, his own body covered mostly in water from the neck down. He tilts his head back, the cloth on his forehead sliding back, and he lazily stretches from where he is. He wasn't napping this time, like he does often underwater, and it doesn't take much for him to sit up, rub at his neck, and pull himself out of the water. A conveniently placed towel at the right moment helps Strange prevent getting an eyeful, and he looks him over when he whines.

"Dull? I would've thought someone like you would enjoy getting catered to," he says casually, taking in the dried blood that he was sure wasn't there a couple of days ago. Plus, Tyki rarely hurries unless it is urgent, "What happened to your face?"