Dr. Stephen Strange moved through the Sanctum Sanctorum's main hall, his robes flowing gracefully behind him. He paused to inspect the Eye of Agamotto, ensuring its mystical energies remained stable.
Dr. Strange sat in his usual chair, engrossed in a text on interdimensional travel. Suddenly, an unexpected rumble echoed in the room, startling the cloaked librarian, Wong.
"Was that... you?"
Dr. Strange cleared his throat, attempting to maintain his composure. "It seems even a Master of the Mystic Arts is not immune to... human moments," he admitted with a sheepish grin.
Wong chuckled, preparing a concoction to ease Strange's discomfort. "Perhaps a blend of ginger and chamomile will help," he suggested, handing over the steaming cup.
Dr. Strange, sipping his tea, leaned back with a sigh. "You know, Wong, it's not every day you hear a sorcerer supreme make such noises," he quipped, eliciting a hearty laugh from Wong.
Dr. Strange gazed out at the city skyline, reflecting on the day's events. "Even masters can have off days, but it's how we handle them that counts," he mused to himself, feeling a renewed sense of humility and humor.
