Strange makes a kind of tch clucking noise in the back of his throat, pedantic although not properly offended: “I do heal, just without any particular magical effect. It’s all scientific, technological, tools-oriented, learned study of how the body works and how to fix it. Although I suppose if you broaden your definition of the word world far enough, then everything’s an extension of the natural world; even magic.”

He pulls up a chair, settles on it next to the cot, bringing himself lower so the conversation’s a little more casual. With the patient gone, he’s not staring with the same hawk-like intensity as before, but she still has his full attention.

Wryly: “Interesting nomenclature, though. If yours is the Small Science, then what’s Big Science?”

It’s— a joke, maybe, but with real curiosity underpinning it.