John looked down at the figures in the courtyard, watching one, singling him out from the rest. Strange. Strange barked out orders in a clear concise manner. His voice reaching up to John’s ears, its tone firm yet gentle. Everything word he utters is tinged in sadness. I can sense the tragic bent of his soul. Like understands like. Why do I feel like we’re connected? I just met him. Could it be that I have decided to trust Doctor Strange of all people? I don’t trust people easily, yet I trust him.