“Off the carriage, and then into the great hall, I think. I heard we roped some students into helping us set up the tables and demos, but we’ll need to get the supplies in first, and I don’t really trust anyone unpacking them but us—”

It would figure, coming all the way here to show off their inventions only to have their hard work stolen, their priceless artifacts taken. So sue him, he’s being a little paranoid and handling Cosima’s microscope as if it’s made of diamond.

Strange ticks off the last item, then looks distractedly up from the manifest — and instead of seeing Peter’s face, he’s just faced with boxes. Wooden boxes. Very heavy wooden boxes, even if some of them are thin. He stares.

“Wait, are you okay?”

Somewhere behind all that is a kid from Queens, Peter’s voice slightly muffled. At least, he’s pretty sure there’s still a kid back there and he hasn’t been crushed yet —