( office hours & overflow )

[sorserer]

❥ stephen strange has office hours. these are hours during which people can come by his house in the up, the abattoir a magically expanded but still very cramped closet-now-office in the triple m apothecary for a nice cup of tea and some advice or direct support on magical endeavors. come thru
❥ this is an informal, word-of-mouth service. stephen appreciates some manner of compensation but will neither mention nor require it
❥ oocly, this is a mechanism for random non-phone threads. you don’t actually have to have a magic question. you can just come by and annoy the shit out of him
❥ just like the ic inbox i reserve the right to cram random shit in here

Comments

[sorserer]

The door doesn’t open, so there is no logical moment that follows wherein if it did open Peter could step in through the threshold--Peter just appears inside.

The house where Stephen spends his resting hours is cozy and rustic, art on the walls and entirely too many books spilling out of the shelves. The sitting area has a sofa and two comfortable armchairs sitting catty-corner to one another. A mug of tea on a coaster steams sedately on the low coffee table.

Stephen is in the kitchen, working on some concoction with mortar and pestle. “Hey, kid,” his voice rings low and loud from the adjacent space. (It is, admittedly, hard to assess offhand the degree of familiarity in that tone.) “Have a seat, I’ll be a second.”

[canttrickmeanymore]

Well that's a thing that just happened. Sure - forget walking or opening doors. Just *poof*.

"Um -" yeah, he's got nothing beyond that as he's suddenly standing in a sitting room surrounded by books. Rather than take a seat though, he scans over the shelves to see what the wizard-doctor might read in his spare time.

He does note the sound of mortar on pestle - he's familiar with that, even if he can't quite determine what Strange might be working on.

The book collection is extensive and eclectic. Peter tilts his head to read a few spines, or tips a book outward to read the cover.

[sorserer]

“Careful. Some of them bite.”

The books, apparently. As far as warnings go, though, it’s not especially helpful.

The sounds from the kitchen slow down. Stephen tips the mortar to look at the result; apparently satisfied, he pulls a film of cling wrap over the top and steps away from his work. When he emerges from the kitchen at a string bean lean against the doorway, he’s toweling some orange residue off his hands.

“What can I do for you?” he says.

[canttrickmeanymore]

"You have books that bite?" He's torn between creepy and cool on that one. "Will I get the powers of a book if one bites me?" Hey, he got spider powers from a spider bite, why not?

He turns away from the bookshelf. "Well, since you've apparently been here, left, and come back at least once, I wanted to know if you remember anything from here when you leave. People, things you're told, whatever."