"Practice makes perfect. That's always been true, in my opinion. Which I always thought was a good thing, but— maybe autopilot has its risks, too. Like conducting a surgery you've done a thousand times before and so you stop paying attention and you get sloppy. Maybe it's important to stay conscientious and intentional."

He takes another sip of his mai tai: spicy rum, sweet orange curaçao, the sharp tartness of lime, the whole cocktail almost cloyingly sweet compared to the man's stern-looking demeanour. There are other contradictions around them: while they're chatting in the corner, what can only be described as a demon strolls past, winged and horned and wearing Bermuda pants and an aloha-print shirt. Strange doesn't even bat an eye.

"I can imagine the silence must be soothing, though. Being better-able to turn it all down. Do you ever hear my thoughts?"