Wanda opens her mouth to protest—what would she say? "No, thank you"?—but she knows from living in the Avengers' Compound with so many men that the moment they roll up their sleeves, it's a done deal.

With Strange, she doubts he offers his magical help lightly.

She'd much prefer he simply clean up the mess. While she knows Strange can be quite messy (aren't all surgeons, past and present?), he has a sophisticated air about him that makes her want to stand a little taller and tug her shoulders back. The desire to prove herself isn't new. It's simply the equivalent of an old pair of worn shoes she hasn't dressed in for a long time.

"Okay."

That doesn't sound overly confident. If this was WandaVision, she'd rewind the tape and take another crack at it. And as tempting as it is—WandaVision: Wanda Takes Manhattan—she knows better. Has to be better. It's what she had promised herself when she chose to leave her own solitude.

Glancing at him, she doesn't roll up her sleeves to mimic him. Instead, she tries something else entirely: to somewhat be herself.

And that currently includes turning the somewhat blueish Sanctum water into a red glow.

"I want to send all the crabs away first." They, after all, are merely innocent citizens caught up in her spell.