The Sanctum Sanctorum was as busy as ever. Staff hurried back and forth. Telephones glowing with magical light flew nonstop. Besides the hurried tones of the customer service staff, there were also the booming voices of various Demon Gods. The clatter of high heels and dress shoes on the wooden floor mingled with it all. The coffee machine's sharp, piercing alert sounded like a sudden rest in the music.
Strange's office, however, was exceptionally calm. The bookshelves floating in midair trembled slightly. Scrolls were piled atop the magic carpet hovering nearby. The cauldron in the corner gave off the strange scent of spices. The cloak draped over the armchair somehow looked drowsy despite being nothing more than a soft piece of fabric.
Stark entered the office, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and sat down in the other armchair by the window. Strange emerged from the lounge and flicked his hand, shutting the door.
He placed the wine and decanter he was holding on the table beside them. As he poured, he said, "Where did you come from? Avengers headquarters, or Stark Tower?"
"Neither. I just got back from Arkham Asylum. Schiller had nothing but praise for your remarks at the congressional hearing. He called you 'the toughest Sorcerer Supreme in history.'"
Holding a glass in each hand, Strange placed the one in his right hand before Stark, then sat down in the other armchair. He took a sip and snorted. "That doesn't sound like a compliment."
Stark leaned toward him, resting his elbow on the armrest. "Seriously, your speech was pretty good. You scared those sleepy old men half to death. How did you come up with a way to convince them like that?"
"Something I came up with? I wouldn't be so sure." Strange took another sip. "I'm afraid our