Crozier pushes open the door to his berth, then the door to the great cabin. He quickly pulls Strange inside, holding him firmly by the shoulders, his own hands shaking but needing to know that this was real and not the dream.

Strange is solid, and he cannot feel the inward distress and horror from him. Nothing pushes into him, nothing's shared between them.

He exhales and steps back from him, convinced that he's awake.

Whiskey. A glass of whiskey used to calm the tremors from his time in Antarctica. Whiskey might...whiskey used to...

He groans and sits at his table tiredly.